And You Don't Seem to Understand
by Yarrie - Water Master
Summary: AU, Rated for citrusy themes. A series of interconnected oneshots, all Kouzumi, all genres. Part 15: " When exactly did I shove your head into the locker? I don't remember that at all."
1. Freudian error

Drabble-length fic. A milestone in my personal challenge to make a true _short_ story. Considering the fact that I left this story really open, I don't know if it counts or not.

Well. Whatever. Enjoy, read, review.

This is part of a long chain of short fics that may or may not go somewhere.

Disclaimer: is disclaimed.

* * *

And You Don't Seem to Understand

* * *

"I swear, it's not what you think it is." Izumi was scowling into a soft drink straw, sucking hard with gritted teeth.

On the opposite side of the table, her on-again-off-again boyfriend kept checking his watch. When he commented, distantly, "Fifteen minutes left," everyone ignored him. Pointedly. He scowled and shook a few stray black hairs out of his face.

The poor counselor was turning from one side to another, looking completely lost.

No one blamed her, but no one took pity on her either. It was, after all, _her_ decision to confront the two about their 'unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship.' She was either extremely brave or extremely stupid. And now the woman was making big gestures with her hands – no one thought to tell her that she would fall out of her chair if she kept it up – trying to convince them to talk.

Tomoki fidgeted. By process of elimination, the younger boy had been strung along as a good-will ambassador, mostly because Kouji had no problems hitting Takuya and Izumi had no problems hitting Junpei. Kouichi was a lost cause either way. So it was up to poor little Tomoki, who would have preferred an hour of lecturing from his calculus professor. Really.

"-would you like to explain that, Miss Orimoto?" The smile on Ms. Counselor's face hadn't slipped even though she had obviously lost her train of thought a few paragraphs back. Tomoki suspected happy pills.

The blond blew at her bangs huffily before continuing. "He's not my boyfriend."

"But you said…" the woman started to protest gently.

"He's not," Izumi repeated, looked aggrieved. "Look. I do like him, for some reason that I can't even remember anymore–"

"Chocolate sauce," Kouji reminded her, and everyone swiveled around to look at him. Two red spots appeared on Izumi's cheeks. The black-haired teenager was still looking at his watch.

Tomoki really wanted to get out of Too-Much-Information land. Unfortunately, the counselor didn't. "Oh?"

"Nothing that you need to know," Izumi told her testily. "But there you go. I like him. He likes me."

"Sometimes."

Izumi looked like she was going to kill someone. Tomoki decided better Kouji than him, and kept silent.

However, Ms. Counselor once again proved her complete and utter lack of self-preservation skills by asking the irate girl, "Do you wish that you had a more steady relationship?"

Kouji snorted. "We've had a steady relationship as exes since freshman year. Don't think we need any help in that department."

"You're not an ex, Kouji," Izumi snapped. "We've never even gone on a date, so that's impossible."

"Study hall. St. Patrick's."

The red haze migrated from her cheeks all the way to her ears. "Doesn't count!"

The counselor seemed to sense an eruption on the way, and hurriedly moved to interfere. "And what happened then?"

Kouji opened and closed his mouth and looked away. Tomoki stared. Was he blushing?

Izumi coughed slightly, before muttering out an answer. The only words that could be heard were 'detention' and 'kissing' and 'pervert.' Tomoki decided to plug his ears; it was the only way to preserve his sanity.

Kouji apparently understood more than they did, because a fine tremor went through his hands and he snapped out, "Izumi."

"…selfish…bite…jerk…"

"_Izumi_." Kouji sounded so horrified that Tomoki was almost tempted to listen in on her ramblings. Almost.

Ms. Counselor's face was molded into a very good impression of a fish. The odd expression didn't even fade when Izumi stopped mumbling, which was unfortunate. Well, no, it was fortunate that Izumi wouldn't spill any more potentially scarring anecdotes for poor Tomoki to overhear, but it wasn't fortunate that what little she _had_ spilled had apparently penetrated the older woman's brain.

There was silence. The creepy, just-before-a-zombie-attack kind of silence.

Kouji coughed. "I don't think that you can help us, Ms. Soto." Tomoki decided not to ask how Kouji knew who the lady was, considering that he didn't exactly have the best memory for names. All of a sudden, the way that the other boys had run off when they heard about the appointment made sense. At the time, Tomoki had attributed it to fear of both the kendo captain and his rather formidable vice-captain, but now…

Well, no amount of sudden revelation would get him out of it now. But he made vague noises of agreement in hopes that the counselor – Ms. Soto – would let them off.

She didn't. "Well," she said, uncertainly, "I still haven't heard your side of the story, Mr. Minamoto."

Said teenager scoffed. "Nothing to tell."

Izumi whipped around, eyebrow twitching. "Of course you would say that, you miserable son of a bitch, it's not like you've kissed me or led me on or anything! I'll just go along on my merry way since there's obviously nothing to discuss–"

"Sit down, Izumi."

She stood up instead, stubbornness glinting in the set of her jaw and the curve of her spine. "I don't think so, _Minamoto_."

He looked at her distantly and tapped on his watch. "Two more minutes, Ms. Soto. Make it good." For the first time today, Tomoki heard the threatening undercurrent running through his words. He was very, very glad that the words weren't directed toward him. Yet. Which was wonderful and all, but he still needed to make it out alive before it was safe to celebrate.

The counselor actually looked a little nervous, but she plunged in anyway. "How would you describe your relationship with Miss Orimoto?"

"Hard."

Izumi snorted but didn't comment, much to everyone's surprise.

"How so?"

"She's stubborn."

"_I'm_ stubborn? Really! And when did you decide that?"

"Izumi," Kouji turned to her, reached down to her left ear, and unhooked the silvery loop earring. "Do you really want to know?"

She opened her mouth several times, but no sound came out. Kouji fished something out of his pocket and gently slid it into the empty spot. Izumi's face looked strangely unbalanced now, with one side sporting the original silver circle, and the other…a lilac feather. Her hand went to feel it and she brightened suddenly. "Really?"

"Yes."

Tomoki and the counselor stared at them blankly, feeling completely out of the loop.

Especially when both started to head for the door.

"Ah, wait–"

The door closed.

Tomoki felt a brief hint of satisfaction at seeing a specially trained adult just as thrown off by his friends' relationship as he was. It ended when he realized that he was the only person left in the office, and therefore the only person present for a thorough interrogation. The world must hate him.

Exactly one hour and twenty seven minutes later, Tomoki ran into Kouji just outside of the best café on campus, and demanded an explanation, because, well, he figured that he deserved one after all that.

His normally reserved captain actually smirked outright, which made Tomoki more than a little concerned. "Don't worry about it. She was just a little mad at me."

"What did you do?" Tomoki asked, flabbergasted.

The older teenager shrugged, but all semblance of innocence was lost when he grinned, ever so slightly.

Tomoki was sure that this very conversation was killing brain cells. Prompt termination would be preferable. "What was up with the feather?" he asked, as a last ditch effort at actually learning something from the experience.

"Late birthday gift," came the enigmatic reply. "And she said that she wanted a feather. And I thought that now would be as good a time as any to ask her."

As the junior walked out of the store with two steaming cups of coffee, Tomoki caught sight of the subject of their conversation waiting for him. He flushed, hoping that she hadn't heard. The speculative grin on her face told him otherwise, and he groaned.

Of course, from this distance, he didn't notice the secure hold that Izumi had on her not-boyfriend's arm…or the curling metal feather sparkling around her left ring finger.


	2. Forty, part one

Another one-shot, same universe...and yes, the title is to be taken literally.

* * *

Twenty things that Izumi knows about Kouji:

1. He keeps his hair long because it's convenient. It makes his opponents underestimate him, _and_ he doesn't have to go to the barber shop. He isn't afraid of cutting his hair or anything, but accidentally knocking the workers over because they cut just a little too close to the skin...yeah, that gets old.

2. His least favorite color is white, because the smell of bleach makes him uncomfortable. In fact, just about every detergent does the same, so he usually washes his clothes twice to get the scent out.

3. Adultery doesn't bother him as much as polygamy.

4. Polygamy doesn't bother him as much as monogamy.

5. Kouji doesn't have commitment issues, at least, not for kendo. Everything else? Fair game.

6. He's bisexual. But prefers the term 'flexible.'

7. This may or may not make him uncomfortable in the locker room.

8. This may or may not be the reason he wanted to be vice captain. Nobody messes with the vice-captain.

9. He hates people who stalk him around and try to get his attention, but he never reports them or gets a restraining order placed on them. In the end, he hates the police more. Izumi might be the only person who knows why, but she's not talking.

10. Kouji secretly disagrees with his captain's leadership style, but until he becomes captain himself, it's impossible to do anything about it.

11. Legally, anyway.

12. Although he becomes the youngest ever kendo captain in the school's history as a sophomore, he doesn't actually enjoy competition that much. In fact, he's probably the only person on the team who doesn't look forward to matches.

13. This is because he has to deal with everyone else when they get smashed at the victory parties.

14. When he's the only one sober. As always.

15. The rumors that Kouji has no sex drive are very, very false.

16. He has met most of his best friends on a train of some sort. The one exception is Izumi.

17. He hates pancakes in the morning. That's why she makes some in her dorm room, every single day.

18. This doesn't always keep him out.

19. Unfortunately, he also makes a freaking good omelet. Usually with _her_ eggs.

20. This might be why she lets him in.

21. #20 is a lie.


	3. Forty, part two

Twenty Things that Kouji knows about Izumi:

1. Izumi always wakes up at the same time, 6:00 AM every single morning, no matter what she's been doing or when she went to bed.

2. Actually, according to his watch, it's more like 6:05 AM, so Kouji theorizes that this must be the result of many, many "Five more minutes" when she was growing up. He can pinpoint the exact moment that Izumi opens her eyes, because whenever she gets really mad at him, she calls as early in the morning as possible. Just to yell in his ear.

3. She usually ends up yelling into his roommate's ear, who yells into Kouji's, so he tries not to make her angry.

4. Izumi lives by the saying "Pepper spray beats punching any day!" Kouji knows this, because it's taped to her wall. And to his.

5. She's ambidextrous.

6. Because she slaps equally as hard with both hands.

7. Her favorite subject is math, because she gets to sleep in that class. Later, when she pesters him for notes, he holds them just out of her reach for as long as he can.

8. Izumi always gets them anyway, because her boxed lunches are holy things.

9. She goes to bed with a teddy bear.

10. With an eyepatch and arrow through its head.

11. The arrow is real.

12. Her favorite hobby, besides kendo, is watching slapstick comedy. And it makes her cry. Kouji doesn't really know why it's her favorite hobby.

13. Izumi only puts on makeup when no one else is around. Her mother, however, is very obliging with the pictures.

14. Her favorite music is classical. She only listens to it when she wants to ignore someone.

15. Usually Kouji.

16. She claims that she never wanted to be vice captain, and everyone believes her except Kouji. He knows better.

17. Because he's still alive.

18. The only art that she appreciates is graffiti.

19. Especially graffiti with her in it.

20. She probably wouldn't like it if she knew who did it.

* * *

I think I'm just going to dub this the Dysfunctional Universe. A lot easier to say than the AYDSTU universe...I think.

Next up is an actual story one-shot. In the past.


	4. Fool

Yet another one-shot. This idea was crawling in my head and wouldn't come out...

NOTE, please. Kouji is still a vice-captain in this chapter. These one-shots skip around the timeline, but eventually every major event will be covered. So, yes. They are discussing events that you do not understand yet. Rest assured that you will be fully able to click the back button and reread any chapter that you want, including this one, when I reveal more of what's going on.

Also, the infamous St. Patrick's day incident has been posted, which is somewhat of a lemon. It's a link on my profile.

EDIT: I have edited this chapter to clean it up...it's still not completely satisfactory, but at least it's better.

* * *

FOOL

"What're you doing?" Izumi slipped off the bed and landed on the floor, where her vice captain had stowed himself in a wall of comforters.

He swatted her away and she huffed slightly. In retribution for ignoring her, Izumi reached over the pillowcase and stole away his eraser. The results were instantaneous. Kouji jerked up, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her halfway into his lap. The awkward position threw hair all over her face, which Izumi was very grateful for.

She squawked weakly. "Kouji, let me go!"

That got her a raised eyebrow. "Izumi," he drawled her name out slowly, as if he was tasting it with his tongue, "I need my eraser back."

"You could've asked," she retorted huffily. Hopefully she wasn't blushing. If she was, hopefully he wouldn't see it. Izumi didn't have much hope.

"_You_ could've asked, too."

She muttered something nonsensical and sneaked a look at what he was doing. A thick pile of papers rested on the floor in front of him, looking much like a history assignment. The first page was nothing but dates and significant events, running for about three centuries. Izumi rubbed her fingernail on the picture of a man with a very long beard. "What's this for?"

Kouji's hands were cool and almost professional as he pushed her off. "A research project. I'm doing mine on Korea."

"But you're Japanese?"

"Kanbura took Japan before the sign ups were even _open._" He sounded so aggravated that Izumi had to laugh. Class clown Kanbura, who probably did it just to spite her vice captain. She had to admire the guy's guts, if not his self-preservation instinct. When she turned around, Kouji was back to flipping through the thick packet. Every once in a while he would take notes on the margin, but otherwise nothing but his eyes would move across the page.

And, of course, he never once touched the eraser.

"Kouji," she said, partly to break the silence and partly to make sure he was still alive.

He eventually muttered, "Why are you still talking?"

Stung, Izumi whipped around and crossed her arms. "Because we haven't had a fight in six days. And supposedly if we make it to seven, Shibayama has to ask me out."

That got his attention. His eyes darted around the room, staring first at her, then at the closet behind her. "What?"

"I said, supposedly if we make - "

"I know _that_." Kouji waved her off, which made Izumi steam a little more. "When exactly did they agree on this?"

She opened and closed her mouth. His reaction was surprisingly laid back, all things considered. Izumi wondered briefly if he even knew what embarrassment was. Kouji raised an eyebrow at her silence, and finally reached over to knock on her head.

Izumi went down and blinked. Then she glared up at the bastard who was leaning over her, looking superior. "How should I know?"

"You're on the team."

"You're the _vice captain!"_

He had the gall to smirk at her. "It's only fair."

Realizing that she was lying down, which gave her a disadvantage if she wanted to yell at him, Izumi stretched forward and let her foot hit him in the jaw on the way up. Or rather, it would have hit his jaw if he hadn't neatly evaded the incoming limb without even glancing in her direction. Jerk.

They stayed like that for a while, Izumi staring at him with barely restrained hostility. Her hands itched for a shinai to bash his face with. If she managed to catch _him_ weaponless, all the better. True, the likeliness of that happening was a negative number, but she could always dream, right?

He caught her eye and smirked, as if to say that she was wrong, and might as well learn to deal with it.

That just made her even angrier. Izumi quietly chanted a mantra of "I won't kill the stupid idiotic arrogant jerk, I won't kill the stupid idiotic arrogant jerk..."

She was suddenly interrupted when Kouji actually pulled her onto his lap - again! - and quietly mocked her, "So, Missus Almost-Vice-Captain...aren't you glad that someone's interested in you?"

"No, I'm not! It's annoying when people ask me because they're dared to!"

His voice was full of feigned politeness. "Perhaps you just scare all the boys away."

Oh, he did not just say that.

...

He _did._

Izumi bit her lip and felt like she might cry, that's how angry she was. She was, however, conveniently close to his chest, so she shoved her elbow between them and hit him straight in the solar plexus. His growl of pain - while immensely satisfying - was not quite as agonized as it could have been. Not a big surprise, considering how well-developed the muscles of Kouji's abdomen were.

Normally, when Kouji led them to win tournaments, she considered his fitness a good thing. But it was so annoying when she couldn't get a good hit in. She had to comfort herself with the knowledge that she was doing the team a favor by restraining herself from fixing whatever was wrong in his head. After all, uninjured people usually fought better. It was probably the same principle that kept Kouji from beating the rest of the team up when they started fooling around during practice.

Said vice captain was currently restraining her entire body with his arms, forcing her to straddle him if she didn't want to strain the muscles of her stomach. How _annoying_.

The awkward position of her torso forced Izumi to face him directly. Kouji peered at her and asked, "Does this count as a fight, do you think?"

She hissed furiously, "I think it does. You made your point. Get off!"

"Technically, you're the one who has to get off." He was smirking broadly. Izumi wrenched her hand free, but Kouji suddenly changed his position until he was directly on top of her, "And now, it's me."

"So. Get. Off."

"Naturally," he said, smirking.

Izumi growled. "Well?"

Kouji blinked at her. "Never said I was going to do it now." And then he waited for the fireworks to start.

He wasn't disappointed.

She screamed at him for the better part of an hour. By the end of it, both of them had ringing ears and strained voice boxes, and Izumi never wanted to talk to him again. Never ever ever. In order to impress this fact upon him, she muttered, "If I have to talk to you again in this lifetime, it would be too soon."

"What about the next life?"

"You actually believe in reincarnation and all that? Never took _you_ for a Buddhist."

He scoffed slightly. "Hermeticist, actually."

"A what?"

Kouji tilted his head and smirked. Seriously, was there anything more to his life than an enormous superiority complex? Izumi doubted it.

"Excuuuuse me," she said, frowning, "but I'm not a religious studies major...unlike _someone_."

"Oh, I know," he waved her off dismissively. "Because not everyone can pay attention in class like me."

She sputtered. "That's just - "

"So true? I know."

Izumi knew that he was expecting that kick to the shins, but she couldn't resist. Likewise, he couldn't seem to resist pinning her down again and actually holding her there with his greater body weight. Izumi hissed. "Off, Minamoto!"

"Oh, so it's Minamoto again," he commented offhandedly, twirling a single strand of golden hair with his left thumb. Every once in a while, the feather-light lock would brush against her cheek, and tempted by the proximity of his hand, Izumi would try to bite it. Kouji snickered softly.

Izumi flushed when she felt his chest rumbling softly, reminding her of how close he was right now. Kouji didn't seem to notice it yet. All the more reason to get him off before he did. "Yes," she hissed through gritted teeth, "Because you don't deserve to be called vice-captain yet."

Something flashed in his eyes. Izumi realized that her plan had backfired when Kouji caught hold of her shoulders and kissed her roughly. His lips were hot and insistent and a little angry, and she opened her mouth slowly because maybe, just maybe, it would let her catch him off guard. And maybe, just maybe...she would be able to punch him. Or keep kissing him. Whichever.

Kouji ended up pulling her completely into his lap and spreading her soft, thick hair with his hand. Izumi fumbled slightly with the change in position, but eventually found a comfortable spot with her legs pointed out and knees tucked up against his thighs. It only took a few short, breathless kisses before he moved on to the curve of her neck and down and...

"Kouji," she breathed out. "Not here. And I'm still mad at you."

He groaned quietly, but didn't stop moving down her shoulder. "If not here, then _where_?"

Oh, _of course_ he would completely disregard the second half of what she said. Izumi actually wrenched his hand out of her hair and placed it firmly at his side. He made a disgruntled sound from the back of his throat and she almost gave in. His dark eyes were watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, which quickened when she realized just where he was looking.

"You really should stop," Kouji said suddenly, pulling her up against him and dumping her onto his bed. Izumi was curled up in a little ball, staring at him, while he grabbed the notes that were scattered all over the floor - when did _that _happen? - and joined her there.

"Stop what?" she asked, voice muffled by the thick comforter.

"Doing things like that if you're not planning on following through."

Izumi blinked and gaped at him. "I'm not doing anything."

Kouji snorted. "And that's why you were in my room."

"So sorry. I wasn't aware that going to someone's unlocked room was a crime nowadays."

He scoffed. "It used to be. Especially for unmarried girls, way back - "

"Uh-uh." Izumi reached over and tapped his lips with her index finger. "Don't you dare turn this into a history lesson."

"I could turn this into something else, if that makes you happy," he offered, with a slow smirk on his face.

She opened her mouth and growled. "Kouji, I really want to beat you on the head with a katana."

Kouji glared at her. "That is _not_ the proper way to use a katana."

"Oh, so now you want to be decapitated? Be my guest!"

"I'd rather you be mine."

Izumi stared at him. Then she turned around and curled up. "If you lay a finger on me, consider yourself infertile, got it?"

"What about an arm?"

Her back tensed up like a bowstring, and she finally replied, rather stiffly, "I have a roll of sandpaper in my purse. Would you like to learn how it feels?"

He promptly shut up. They lay on Kouji's bed like that for a long time, with Izumi trying and failing to take a nap, and Kouji carefully marking up his research as if he didn't have a girl right next to him. Then she suddenly got up and practically jumped on his back. He jerked in surprise and ended up rolling off the edge of the bed. If it hadn't been for her reflexes, Izumi would have ended up under him as they tumbled, but she pulled herself out by holding onto the blankets.

The sheets came undone and she fell down chaotically. Kouji hissed softly when her weight settled roughly on his chest, but her grip on the fabric managed to slow it all down so that it was only painful, not life-threatening. Then he got up and shook her. "What on earth were you thinking?"

She pouted slightly at him. "I wanted to hit you."

He blinked. "...That's it?" Izumi glared in response and turned away. And a good thing that she did, because otherwise, she would have seen Kouji try to conceal his grin - and fail miserably. After a few attempts at talking without letting out a strangled laugh, Kouji pushed her against the side of the mattress and opened his desk.

Izumi watched, curiously. "What're you...?"

He pulled out a few crumpled bills and threw them at her. "Cafeteria should still be open. Get me some cheesecake."

"Wait a sec," Izumi scowled, "Why would I walk all the way over to the cafeteria just to buy you _cheesecake_?"

Kouji blinked. "I'll share it with you?"

She opened and closed her mouth, grudgingly. "Fine. Which kind?"

"Whatever you want."

"Chocolate," she said firmly, watching his eyes roll skyward in exasperation. "Hey, you offered."

"And now I'll never see any of it," he muttered. "Shoo, shoo." He waved her off.

"Hey. 'M not a fly, you know. You have to actually pretend to be polite."

"Of course you're not a fly. Flies don't eat cheesecake. And how am I not polite?" he asked mockingly.

"Oh, let me count the ways - "

"Okay, fine," he cut in, rolling his eyes. "What _specifically_ were you complaining about just now?"

"...I don't remember. Oh! That's right, I wanted to hear you say 'see you later' or something like that. Not 'shoo, shoo.'" She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed smile.

He snorted. "Alright. See you soon, Orimoto."

"Mm-hm, see you, Minamoto. I'll be back with your cheesecake - or at least half of it." Izumi nodded to herself, rather satisfied.

"Oh, no, don't push yourself," he smirked. "If you want it all...who am I to get between a hungry girl and her sugar fix?"

"Oh hush!" She shoved him playfully and flounced out.

When the sound of her footsteps faded down the hallway, Kouji spun around and dragged his closet door open. "Now, then. Shibayama, care to explain a few things to me...?"


	5. Frivolous

Takes place the semester before Freudian error.

Also, Faith (the St. Patrick's Day incident) is posted on my profile. Read the whole warning, please!

* * *

One warm, balmy afternoon, the kendo club had to wait on the bench for three hours before the captain showed up.

Even then, it was the _soccer_ captain Takuya who showed up, not Minamoto. As soon as the brunette was within sight of the clubhouse, a frantic mob swarmed around him. Every limb was held hostage under the secure grip of kendo-trained hands. He yelped in surprise, thoroughly flabbergasted. "What the hell, guys?!"

Everyone else began talking at once, right over each other. Even when it looked like most of the team was reaching a consensus on who was speaking when, inevitably somebody would stay out of the loop and the circle of interruptions would begin anew. Eventually, Junpei clapped his hands like a kindergarten teacher and hollered, "Shuddup!"

The immediate effect was silence everywhere. A nearby bird nest fell out of its tree. Tomoki gasped and glared at the senior, clearly scandalized by the older student's disregard for nature.

Takuya stared and asked, "Where's Minamoto?"

"That's the problem," Toru answered slowly and carefully, as if to a very young child. "Minamoto's not here. He's _never_ not here."

"Orimoto's not here either," Junpei muttered.

Toru rolled his eyes at his sparring partner. "Figures that _you_ would bring that up. But sometimes she goes off to that whatamacallit. I'm not too worried about her."

"Barbecue Night," Takuya supplied eagerly.

"Barebecue Night," Toru sighed. "Why do we have Barebecue Night anyways, that's an American thing - "

"Baaaarbecue, not Barebecue," Takuya said, matter-of-factly, because at the very least he could be trusted to know something about _food_.

"Do you think she'll bring anything back for us?" Junpei asked hopefully. Everyone did their own variation of the Izumi-face-palm. At the same time, they silently agreed to go back to talking about Minamoto, not his vice captain.

Tomoki piped up timidly, "Um, does anyone know Captain's number?"

Takuya shook his head. "Only to his room. Does he even have a cell phone?"

"Orimoto has his number," Junpei said suddenly, not sounding particularly happy about it.

Mokuzai sipped from a water bottle that had probably been stolen from someone else. Then he muttered, "You know, we don't need him here to practice."

Everyone stared at each other, suddenly realizing that it was true. Takuya started laughing. "Geez, really? I thought that you wanted to ask him a question or something. Minamoto's going to be _so_ pissed off when he finds out..."

He never got to finish the sentence because almost everyone on the kendo team scattered in record time, leaving just Tomoki and Takuya standing there. This was a great relief for the youngest member of the kendo team. Soccer star or not, Takuya radiated approachability – something that the rest of Tomoki's acquaintances were sorely lacking. Even Izumi, the most sociable person on the kendo team, had a scary side. It certainly didn't help that Tomoki's first meeting with the vice captain involved watching her put another student in a pink tutu as punishment for avoiding his club responsibilities.

The one other person who could relate to Tomoki's position as the only freshman on the team was simply too intimidating to approach. Minamoto Kouji was, after all, one of the best kendo captains in the school's history.

Tomoki coughed softly to get Takuya's attention. "I, um, was supposed to have a semi-private lesson today."

"With Minamoto?" The soccer captain frowned. "Can't imagine him skipping, then. Where the hell _is_ he?"

"I know where Vice Captain is, if that helps?"

"Yeah, sure. Where is _she_?"

"She said something about a project."

"…Oh."

"So, she probably went to the treasure room."

"Fuck."

The treasure room: also known as the science laboratory in Building D. Also known as the room with the best soundproofing technology in the country. Oh, and the best locks. There were even rumors floating around the student body that people could sign up to be test subjects for borderline life-threatening experiments, though hard evidence was obviously lacking. Anyone with a solid sense of self-preservation avoided the area because of the dangerous machines in every corner, but if someone like Izumi walked in, no one would ever see her again. It was heaven for the hobbyist engineer who only cared about the rule of cool. She absolutely loved that place.

It would take the captain's jackassery to get the girl out.

And said captain was currently AWOL.

Truly, fuck.

Takuya patted the devastated freshman on the shoulder. "It'll be fine. Minamoto wouldn't disappear on us without a good reason. He's probably in the hospital or something."

It was such a pathetic attempt at cheering someone up that Tomoki couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah. I guess so."

"No worries, right?" Takuya grinned at him and offered two thumbs up.

"Yeah."

The beautiful, brotherly bonding moment was rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of a third party, but it was quite possibly the nicest rude interruption Tomoki had ever experienced - or at the very least, the most ninja-like. One minute Takuya was standing next to him, and the next he was practically tackling a blue-eyed, grinning newcomer who had come from absolutely nowhere. Tomoki just watched, startled, as Takuya successfully pulled the familiar-looking stranger into a headlock before drawling, "Well, look who decided to show up!"

"Hi, Takuya," gasped his victim, "Could you let me have a little air, maybe? Kinda need it. Thanks. Whew."

"Long time no see," Takuya said, grinning maniacally.

The young man twisted himself out of the headlock and laughed. "Don't know about that. It's only been a week!"

"Wait, it has? Whatever." Takuya slung his arm over Kouichi's shoulders. "So what brings you here?"

A sigh. "My brother's apparently gone mad, according to his teachers, so I'm here to yell at him."

"Oh," Takuya muttered sarcastically, "Madder, you mean?"

"Sure, but no one's ever going to say that to his face, right?"

A chorus of agreement rose up from the eavesdropping team members. Tomoki stood behind the wall awkwardly, watching the newcomer with a sense of wonder. He had known about the captain's brother – who wouldn't? – but it was his first time actually meeting the young man face to face. People had a lot to say about Minamoto Kouji's twin, mostly good things, but some not-so-good.

It was a little disturbing to see the captain's face with a smile on it. The fact that it wasn't really the captain didn't help much. Brilliant blue eyes eventually glanced in his direction and the grin widened. "You must be the freshman prodigy, yeah? Himi Tomoki?"

His jaw dropped. "How…?"

Kouichi snorted. "Brother doesn't talk about anything but kendo. I couldn't help picking up a few things here and there."

Somehow, the fact that the captain had mentioned his name made Tomoki feel warm inside. A tentative curl of confidence sparked to life in his gut. "And you're the captain's brother?"

"In the flesh!" Kouichi dropped into a mock bow. Then he turned from side to side, scanning the grounds. "Huh, that's new."

"What is?"

"My brother hasn't come to hit me for visiting him during practice yet. Where is he?"

Tomoki and Takuya groaned at the same time.

"You see, we've been –"

"Looking for him, but –"

"He's not-"

"Can't find–"

"Something about –"

"Was supposed to –"

"Woah, woah!" Kouichi held both hands out placatingly. "Settle down and one at a time!"

Takuya took the lead. "He's been missing all day."

A fine black eyebrow rose. "Even for practice?"

"Yep."

"…" Kouichi's forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion. "That's a first."

"Ain't that the truth," Takuya groaned. "And his team's been bothering _me_ about it."

"Not that much," Tomoki protested. "Only for two minutes or so."

"Still into exaggeration, huh, Takuya?" Kouichi shook his head fondly. "I bet Izumi's ready to beat him up."

"She would be," Tomoki interjected, "if she was actually here."

"You're telling me that both of them are gone?"

"Un-fortunately," Takuya said, with a sour look on his face.

Captain's brother sighed. "Wait here. I'll go look for them."

"You don't have to…" the younger boy protested hesitantly.

Takuya cut him off. "Go ahead. If you can't do it, no one can."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Anytime, bro. Good luck!"

Kouichi waved to them with his back turned, already disappearing off in the distance. A slow gulp of water behind them signaled Mokuzai's reappearance, as did the faint choking sound at the end.

"Learned anything?" the fine-boned boy asked after his coughing fit died down. Takuya shrugged. Tomoki shrugged. Mokuzai shrugged back.

"Nope. You disappointed?"

"Nah, I'm used to it." Another swig of water.

"No kidding."

Hours later, with no sign of vice captain, captain, or captain's twin, the entire team was just about ready to leave. Only a few stragglers, like Tomoki, remained – mostly to hang out after hours. Takuya went to go get sodas, leaving just in time to miss the grand reappearance of all three missing persons.

Tomoki was not so fortunate.

The new arrivals were in a tangle of limbs, with Izumi trying to smack the living daylights out of her captain with her one free arm. Kouichi was on his twin's other side, yelling at one or both of them. Probably both, from the way Izumi was glaring at him.

Mokuzai took out a video camera from absolutely nowhere.

Minamoto came to take it away…from absolutely nowhere. "What the hell're you doing?"

Mokuzai growled.

Captain didn't even dignify his protest with a second glance. Tomoki was vaguely reminded of two wolves circling around each other, one threatening and the other more interested in the grass on the ground. It was all in the way they walked and talked; Minamoto had a talent for looking down at everyone – including people who were much taller, heavier, and stronger. Said captain walked up to a very distracted Tomoki and ordered, "Get your shinai."

The sudden statement caught the freshman off guard. "A-ah?"

Minamoto's finger prodded him hard on the shoulder. "Your. Shinai. Did you practice today?"

"Yes," he called after the retreating figure, "I did. Third and fourth forms…and defense…"

"Who did you practice with?"

"U-um…Shibayama gave me some tips."

"Oh?" Captain turned around and stared at Izumi. "Where were you today?"

"Working," the girl said with a slight huff. "Where were _you_?"

"Working."

They stared at each other. Tomoki was reminded of wolves again, except that this particular pair wasn't really threatening each other. More like…well, never mind. Izumi broke the tense silence by reaching into her coat and handing Captain a slip of paper.

"What's this?"

"A schedule," she replied shortly, "of all the times I will be busy for the next month or so."

He scoffed. "Busying doing what?"

"Getting my life back," she scowled. "I can't be at practice all the time, Minamoto."

"You were certainly doing fine last year."

"That was last year. And _you_ weren't such an ass back then."

The very air seemed to freeze around them and Tomoki felt the urge to run and hide. Even Mokuzai was staring at them, jaw slack with shock. Things had been tense between the two for weeks, but just going out and saying it like that…was she insane?

Captain didn't seem that surprised – in fact, it was almost like he had been expecting that response. Casually, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another sheet of paper.

"What's that?" Izumi asked, without moving to take it.

"Your resignation form."

It was so silent that you could have heard a pin drop. Tomoki's semi-happy state of mind dissolved into pure panic. It certainly didn't help when Izumi reached out with her umbrella and swung it straight toward Captain's face. He blocked with his right arm and pulled her forward with a twist of his wrist. She caught herself and swung again, and again, and again. Minamoto dodged with increasingly tighter margins for error until he suddenly stepped out and blocked the umbrella with his foot.

Izumi instantly backed down and changed the angle of attack. She was aiming for Minamoto's face, Tomoki realized through the haze of panic. Not his vitals. His _face_, which would have been protected in a normal kendo match. What on earth did she want to hit his head for?

They reached the edge of the clubhouse and Minamoto took the opportunity to grab a practice sword. There they were, moving through the air faster and faster, like liquid waves of water. No energy was wasted on elegance. They fought on a battlefield where nothing mattered but strength and luck.

Umbrella vs. shinai.

Oh, there went the umbrella. A stray metal shard flew out of the cover and barely missed Izumi's shoulder. She didn't seem to notice. Another hit Minamoto and…

Ouch. It hurt just watching them.

Crack. EERRRG. Snap!

That was the door. Izumi's bare fist crashed straight into the wood and left a mess of splinters behind. Tomoki stared, feeling slightly green in the face. Then Minamoto blocked that same punch with the broad side of his forearm like it was something he did everyday.

They were monsters, both of them. Tomoki quietly resolved to never, ever get on his vice captain's bad side. It was a promise sealed in blood and deposited right next to a similar one about Minamoto – because there were only so many times a poor, innocent freshman could see that death glare before terror became a part of his daily routine.

If Izumi could stand up to _that_…more power to her.

They disappeared into the clubhouse. Metallic crashes echoed against the suddenly fragile-sounding walls. Kouichi, who had been hanging at the back with a thoughtful look on his face, gently tugged the gawking kendo team members away. "Let's go find Takuya," he said cheerfully.

Mokuzai threw off the shoulder and went to a vending machine instead – presumably to get more water.

Tomoki, however, was still in shock. Any time now, he was bound to wake up in his warm bed and realize that it was all a dream…Cautiously, he pinched his arm. Nothing happened.

A soft snicker from Kouichi's direction made Tomoki flush bright red. "Trust me. You're not dreaming."

"I wish I were."

"It's not that bad."

Tomoki stared at him in disbelief. "They smashed through a door like it was paper and _it's not that bad_?"

Kouichi clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Sorry, I know it doesn't look very safe to you, but they know exactly how to avoid going too far. Don't worry so much. They'll work it out."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"You're 'fraid of what?" The soccer captain suddenly appeared behind a tall gray fountain with a six-pack of soda in hand. Tomoki seriously envied his ability to disappear at the most convenient of times.

Kouichi answered for both of them. "The double trouble team is at it again." As if in reply, a tremendous crash came from the direction of the locker rooms. Nobody wanted to think about what could happen to make a sound like that.

"Aw, man, really?" Takuya smacked his forehead with his unoccupied hand.

"Would I lie?"

"They just don't know when to stop," the older brunette muttered, somewhat disgruntled.

"That would be too convenient."

"Does Minamoto even know what convenient _means_?"

"Does _Izumi_?"

"Hell, she probably has no idea that it's dangerous to swing metal objects at people."

"It's because she's used to my brother."

Tomoki asked hesitantly, "Do they fight like that a lot?"

No one spoke a word for quite some time. Then the other two students looked at each other meaningfully and said in unison, "Of course not!"

"…maybe."

"Takuya!"

"What? I'm a horrible liar, you know that!"

"Is that supposed to make him feel better?"

"Well, it's not supposed to make him feel _worse_."

Kouichi groaned and held his head. "I give up. If you need me, I'll be in that insane asylum on the corner of the street."

"There's an insane asylum there?"

"It's called the bar, idiot."

"Oh….wait, there's a _bar_ on the corner of the street?"

"Good gods, Takuya, what do you use your eyes for?"

"Hey, I don't usually go walking down the street, you know!"

Kouichi rolled his eyes and muttered, "You're even useless at getting drunk."

The soccer captain protested, "Heeeeey," in response, but followed Kouichi onto the street anyway. Tomoki pinched himself again.

In the meantime, the kendo team's much-feared captain and vice captain were in the clubroom, leaning against opposite walls. A path of destruction had been carved into the locker room like a river. Anything that got in the way had either been punched in or slashed apart in the fray. The deceased umbrella was somehow hanging from the ceiling fan, while the much-abused shinai balanced precariously on the edge of a shower stall. Neither student paid any attention to the countless laws of physics that were being broken before their eyes.

Kouji lifted his hand up and threw the schedule back. The paper was crumpled and smudged, but his vice captain didn't seem to care. She smoothed it out and folded it twice.

"Hey," the captain said unenthusiastically.

"What."

"I'm sorry for breaking your pencil."


	6. Faith

So I was debating whether or not to post this for you guys, but in the end, I thought I might as well. What else would I write it for? XD This is part of the And You Don't Seem To Understand Universe, aka AYDSTU, set quite some time after Fool.

This is the INCOMPLETE VERSION. The complete version is on my profile and has citrus.

* * *

When the heat waves came in early summer, there was no avoiding them. It was just sweltering, dripping, melting hot everywhere. For the first time since the rigged tryouts, Izumi was glad not to be vice captain. At least out in the training field, there was a slight breeze - though barely enough to do anything. Kouji and Ikusa were both still in the building, apparently talking about the appointments for the upcoming match.

And the air conditioning was broken almost everywhere.

She felt momentarily sorry for them both, but immediately disregarded any concern for the latter. Their captain could take care of himself. The thought made her grin spitefully. Kouji, no matter how utterly stupid and insensitive he was, was still many times better than that guy.

And not just in kendo.

It took a lot more effort to stop thinking about how the other freshman was doing, bombarded on one side by the weather, and the other by their egotistical captain. Poor Kouji, indeed.

Not for the first time, Izumi wondered just how to describe her relationship with the vice captain. Usually, sharing a few innocent and not-so-innocent kisses would be enough to claim someone as your boyfriend. She, however, was slightly annoyed by that idea. They were definitely not affectionate enough to be dating.

And she wasn't in love yet, damn it.

Love was heat, and passion. They had smoke, and water.

Lots of water. Eight glasses a day, in fact. Which was a strange analogy to make, because water was healthy. And their relationship was…er…not.

Oh well. You're only young and stupid once.

Izumi passed the yellow flag, finishing off her tenth lap. The heat of the sun combined with exercise was seriously awful. She jogged lightly in place, and started wondering yet again how her undeserving vice captain was doing. Then, shocked at her own idiocy, Izumi slapped her forehead.

If she really wanted to know, it wasn't like he was twenty miles away or anything.

He was just in the next building over!

Hmph. All this heat was probably melting her brain.

She stood up and instantly regretted it. Her legs wobbled, limp and exhausted despite how little she had been running. Izumi instantly recognized the signs of dehydration. Possibly even heat exhaustion. Jeez, wonder why. Briefly cursing the captain for still holding practice on a day like this, she supported herself on the wall and started to inch toward the locker room. A shower would be nice.

Shibayama caught sight of her and waved his arm around wildly, "Hey, Orimoto!"

In return, his sparring partner had him pinned down. "No getting distracted! C'mon, she wasn't even here for most of today and you're still acting up!"

The sophomore flushed, probably because Izumi was listening, and turned to smile at her. "Sorry. Anyways, how're you doing…" he trailed off when he realized that the girl was leaning on the wall heavily, shoulder to knee. "Orimoto?"

"I'm okay, just a little hot," she said, too exhausted to protest when her teammates promptly secured her by each arm and marched her to the locker room. They sat her down on the bench, and through the haze, Izumi realized that there was a lot of panicked shouting in the background. Someone pressed a water bottle to her lips and she drank in gratefully, but slowly. No matter how thirsty she was, dumping too much water into her stomach was still a bad idea.

"Thanks," she managed. A soft chorus of "No problem!" rose up in front of her and she blinked.

When did so many people get here?

"What the hell are you doing? Practice isn't over yet!"

Damn, when did _Ikusa_ get here? Obviously within the last five minutes. Izumi groaned quietly. Today was a very, very bad day. She should have stayed in bed. Rather whimsically, she wondered if Kouji was also there if the captain had come back.

He was. There was no mistaking the hand that brushed against her forehead and held her back. His palm was strangely cool, probably because of Izumi's elevated temperature. Then, neutrally, he said, "Toru, get the thermometer in the first aid kit. It's in my office…place…whatever. Did you wash up yet, Izumi?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Toru, don't go. And I was going to take a shower."

"Then why are we keeping you?" he sounded genuinely baffled. The entire team, sans Ikusa, blushed and shuffled their feet. He threw them a look, but didn't lecture them. He didn't need to. Moments after his perfectly timed question, they all scattered, leaving her with the vice captain and captain.

Ikusa coughed, and leveled her with a stern gaze. "What were you doing running on a day like this?"

"I was assigned. Sir."

"By who?"

"By the coach." It was a subtle taunt. The coach never did anything except sponsor the events and come by with cherry tarts when they won. Most of the time, when the team received orders 'from the coach' they were actually made by Ikusa himself.

He turned an interesting red color. Kouji looked at him and said, "Captain, you're a little flushed. Are you alright?"

The sound of gritting teeth was so loud that it could probably be heard from the outside. Eventually, Ikusa snapped out, "Make sure this doesn't happen again!" and stalked away moodily.

Once he was out of earshot, Izumi grinned up at Kouji and said, "You know, that's the closest he's come to giving a damn about me. At this rate he might even let me tickle him at graduation!"

Kouji's calm expression fell away and he snickered quietly. "You? Tickle him? He'd probably die first!"

She beamed. "Wouldn't be that bad of a loss."

"On the kendo team, maybe."

"Don't be like that. You're better than he is."

"I've never beaten him," Kouji reminded her, pulling her closer until she was curled up on his lap. Then he lifted her bridal style and took her to the shower area. Izumi decided not to protest the unnecessary ride because she was simply too tired to argue about small things like that. He wouldn't stop anyway, so why bother?

"Only because you won't fight him seriously!"

"It'll destroy what's left of his reputation," he said quietly. "And then no one will follow him. I'm not going to undermine the team, Izumi."

She closed her eyes and tried hard to focus on the way he said her name. I-zeee-umi. Kouji always accented the consonants just a bit more than necessary. Everyone else was so used to it that it completely slipped under their radar, but since she was bilingual, Izumi knew the signs. A tongue that wasn't used to Japanese…what other languages could he speak?

Kouji stopped in front of one of the shower stalls. She wiggled out of his arms, legs sliding down the length of his body. So warm, but not a bad warmth…except on a day like this. Kouji finally released her hips and she walked over to the showers. Teasingly, she called, "No peeking!"

In response, Kouji smirked broadly and said, "No need!"

Of course. The curtains were only partially opaque, after all. Blushing brightly, but knowing that he wasn't there just to watch the shadow play, Izumi slid into the shower and let the water soothingly cascade over her.

Kouji was tapping his foot gently against the tile floor. "You know, there are a lot of rumors about our relationship."

"About how much we fight?"

"No, the newer ones."

"What did you expect, Kouji? A quarter of the school thinks we're dating. Another quarter thinks we hate each other. Now, if only someone would put the two together..." Well, even then, it still wouldn't be completely true, but close enough. Izumi finally decided on a name for their relationship: non-friends with benefits.

"What about the other half?"

"They don't give a damn."

"Still doesn't make the rumors go away."

Izumi blinked and look back at him, forgetting that she was in the shower and therefore wouldn't be able to see anything. "It's only because you won't talk to any of the other girls."

A faint laugh escaped him. "They won't talk to me either. Apparently, pictures are just as good as the real thing."

Izumi smirked. "No, they're better. They don't talk back."

"I don't understand girls."

"I'm a girl."

"With a boy's brain."

"Nah, not so much. Still heterosexual."

"Okay, with a gay boy's brain."

That made her laugh out loud, almost swallowing a lump of shampoo. "Kouji!"

"What?" He sounded almost pleased. No insults either. Today must have been a good day for him.

"You're pretty cheerful. What happened?"

"Apparently, Shibayama's challenging Ikusa for the title as captain."

"…What? But he's going to get killed!"

"That's what I thought. But look at it this way. Our next match is in a month, and Shibayama will definitely make the cut. Ikusa won't hurt him too bad if it's like that."

Izumi scowled slightly. "There are ways to hurt people without laying a single finger on them, Kouji."

"I know. I'll be watching."

That caught her by surprise. "Are you…?"

"Willing to let Shibayama win? Yes."

"That wasn't what I was going to ask."

Kouji sighed. "No, I'm not going to make myself captain. No matter what the situation is."

"Shibayama's not the leadership type…"

"He's not the winning type either. I don't think we'll need to worry about that."

"Kouji, don't be such a bastard. He's got a good rank."

"Ikusa's better."

"_You're_ better. _I'm_ better."

"But we're freshmen. That's not good for power dynamics."

Izumi shook her head in disbelief. "Are you studying to how to become a dictator or something, Kouji?"

"Hell no. I'd rather say far away from politics and assassination attempts."

"Aren't there assassination attempts in religion too?"

"Only if you claim to be a holy man."

She laughed, unable to help herself. "Kouji, why did you choose that major anyway?"

"Because I think religions are interesting. You don't think so?"

"I do, but I wouldn't study them. And you're atheist, right?"

"Hermeticist."

"You never explained what that is."

"Because it's complicated. Sometimes I think that people can't convert to Hermeticism. They can only be born into it."

"How's that for an evasive answer?"

"Izumi, just spit it out already."

She sputtered. "What are you talking about?"

"You wanted to ask me something, right?"

Izumi turned around and stared at the shadowy figure through the shower curtain. Something she would never get used to about him – he always knew when to get serious. Like a psychic or something. "Kouji, how would you describe our relationship?"

"As one of the participants or as an innocent bystander?"

"You mean a voyeur?"

"Not everyone who watches us is a voyeur, Izumi."

"They usually are. With you around, they don't have a _choice_."

"Getting off topic."

"Right, sorry." Izumi leaned back against the cool torrent of water. She could stay here and waste water all day. It certainly felt better than burning to a crisp outside. Conveniently enough, the curtain was also hiding the blush on her cheeks. Maybe they should talk in the shower room more often.

"Izumi…if I had an answer, I would give you one."

"Oh, good. At least I'm not the only one who doesn't know what she's doing."

"Trust me, you aren't."

"Lovely. Blind leading the blind, eh?"

"Ha. Is that all?" Kouji didn't sound too embarrassed by the conversation, for which she was grateful. As long as her vice captain was calm, it was easy to take deep breaths and go with the flow. He just had that effect on people.

"Is that all, Minamoto? Is that _all_? I ask you a serious question and that's all you can say?"

"Well, the question wasn't as bad as it could have been."

"You know what, don't tell me. I don't want to know where you're going with that."

"Too bad. You'll find out some day."

"Wonderful. Now get out so I can get dressed."

"Fine. I'll be in library. Study hall."

"What? Did you get detention or something?" Izumi doubted it. No matter how badly he pummeled his fellow students, Kouji never got caught for anything, even when he deserved it. Especially when he deserved it. She was torn between admiration and disgust for his apparent ability to get away with murder.

Kouji scoffed slightly. "Some people do go there to study, you know."

"I doubt that's your excuse."

"You'd be right."

"So why?"

"The air conditioning there actually works."

Izumi gaped slightly, even though he couldn't see her. "What? Why did no one tell me this before?"

"It's the school's best kept secret," he replied. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Newly enlightened, Izumi quickly scrambled to finish her shower and rinse out the remaining bubbles from her long blond hair. She grabbed the towel that was hanging just outside and sponged herself dry.

In her locker, she found a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. She tried tucking it in, but when the fabric bunched up uncomfortably, Izumi gave up. Her purse was hanging on the hook, and inside, she found a yellow rubber band. That hair accessory was used to tighten up the hem of the shirt.

Five minutes later, Izumi strolled into study hall and gasped out loud. "Holy shit!" The room was empty except for them, and the walls blocked out sound, so no one looked up at her outburst. Thankfully. There were enough rumors about the kendo team's psychotic behavior as it was. No sense getting lumped together with the rest of the boys.

"I know, right?" Kouji leaned back against the wall and smirked.

"It's freezing in here!"

"No, it's not. Just feels that way because of how hot it is outside."

Izumi glared at him and rubbed her arms frantically. "I almost want to go back out."

"Get over here," he said, setting his book down. As soon as she sat down next to him, he stretched his arm out and pulled her close. "Easy."

"Mmm," Izumi said, hiding her nose in his shirt. Then she blinked. "Is that chocolate?"

"Huh?"

She tugged at his shirt and took a deep breath. Along with the normal scent of something husky and sweaty, there was the undeniable aroma of sweet cocoa. "You smell like chocolate."

He stared at her. "You're a fucking bloodhound, that's what you are."

"What were you doing with chocolate, Kouji?"

The black-haired teenager leaned back and took her with him. They were practically lying down on the sofa. "Doing a project, actually."

"What kind of project?"

"Your kind, apparently," Kouji said dryly. "Actually, we were assigned to make our perfect religion, and I'm using chocolate as one of the offerings."

"Oh. You know, all of a sudden I want your major."

"I knew you would." He grinned and ran a finger down her cheek.

"Mmhmm." Izumi closed her eyes and inhaled again. Even without the sweet, appetizing food smell all over his clothing, Kouji had a very nice scent. She didn't know whether it was natural or cologne, but either way, it made curling up against him one of her favorite hobbies. If they got to share body heat while doing it, all the better.

"You know," he whispered suddenly. "I've changed my mind."

"Hm?"

"My perfect religion wouldn't be about chocolate." He flipped her over until she was completely face up, staring at his chest.

Izumi swallowed. "Kouji?"

He didn't respond, probably because his mouth was busily tracing a line down her neck. The too-wide opening sagged over her shoulder and Izumi barely had the time to think that it was a bad idea wearing this shirt to a private meeting with her vice captain.

* * *

If you don't like lemons, stop here. If you do...go to my profile for the rest of it! XD


	7. Fragile, part one

Skip ahead to senior year, guys! Soon to be continued with part 2!  


* * *

When Kouji almost tripped on a box for the third time in an hour, he cursed. Then he dropped the bag of blankets and sheets. He cursed again. Then he pulled his foot back and delivered a solid kick to the side of the wall, apparently reliving his childhood in the form of a temper tantrum. Something fell on the other side. High-pitched screeching sounds quickly followed.

Izumi winced, recognizing the voice of the old janitor lady. She internally debated going out to check on the building's structural integrity, but decided to calm down her fiancé of three months first. A wise choice, since he was currently eyeing the _very fragile glass window _with murderous rage.

"Kouji," she called loudly, smacking his shoulder blade with a wooden spoon. "Stop terrorizing the wall."

Her captain didn't even turn around before reaching an arm out and catching her wrist in mid-whack. Then he pulled Izumi forward until she was falling towards the wall. It took all of her hard-earned kendo experience to keep from smashing straight into the plywood. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Izumi rocked on the balls of her feet, turned around, and grabbed Kouji's collar. Breath, release.

"Good job," he offered, without the slightest trace of sarcasm.

She stuck her tongue out and tried to ignore his snickers. "Bastard."

"Not possible," he retorted quickly, "My parents were married."

Izumi rolled her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. This position provided her with an excellent view of the room. An excellent view that was really not that excellent, but of course it was all Kouji's fault. "You messed my boxes up."

"Not possible," he repeated. "They were never _not_ messed up."

"But they were a lot better before you came along. Why are you here, anyways?"

"Because I'm supposed to help you. I think."

"Well, could you learn how to help me without bringing the building down?"

"It's still standing, though."

"Probably won't be for long. Thank god you never roomed at this dorm. You would have destroyed everything."

"Izumi," he protested, perfectly serious, "This is a _girl's_ dorm. Trust me, I'm just as happy as you are that I never roomed here."

Izumi wrinkled her nose. Kouji at a girl's dorm was a frightening thought. Kouji as a girl was just as frightening, if not more so. "You're not helping."

"Actually, I am. It's the thought that counts." He smirked and kissed her forehead. "Besides, you're not exactly the most organized person around, so I figured you could use someone like me."

"You're not any neater than I am. That doesn't work."

"My room is pretty neat compared to this. Hell, a lot of things are neat compared to this."

"_My_ room was pretty neat, too."

Kouji looked first at her, then at the organized chaos around them. His eyes rolled upwards. "I don't know what your definition of neat is, but it's obviously not compatible with mine."

"Kouji, this is me in the middle of packing. You can't judge my neatness or messiness based on how my room looks right now." Izumi poked his shoulder with exasperation, but instantly regretted it. Kouji's attention latched on to the proffered finger and moved up to the back of her hand. Instead of kissing it, he ran the edge of his canine over each bump and ridge of skin. It was vaguely ticklish, but she shivered for another reason altogether. "Stop distracting me."

"No."

"We need to move all of the boxes out today."

"Moving can wait." His hand was firmly curled around her hip, partially lifting her up in the air. From this angle, getting good speed on a kick would be well nigh impossible. Instead, Izumi pulled her hand back and smacked him on the forehead hard enough to knock him back a foot or so.

"Let go," she insisted.

Kouji sighed. "Vice captains shouldn't order their captains around, you know."

"I don't," she said. "Not when everyone else is around. I promised."

"You didn't have to. I don't mind that much." His hand reached up to stroke her hair before dropping. "But I have to say, Izumi…"

When he trailed off, she looked at him and raised a slender eyebrow. His blue eyes were closed in contemplation, barely inches from her own. She took the time to brush away stray strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Kouji hadn't changed much from his freshman year self, at least, not physically. A few inches here and there in muscle mass were always accompanied by a few inches in height, which kept his body at roughly the same proportions as before. Izumi knew for a fact that the lack of change frustrated him. Kouji would never achieve the muscular physique of, say, a weightlifter – which she was privately grateful for – but as a corollary, it was devastatingly easy to hit his body's limit.

At a time when everyone else on the kendo team was taking great strides forward, their captain was stagnating. It was like an athletic version of writer's block – and obvious enough that other people were starting to notice. Toru, for example, had gone straight to Izumi to explain his doubts and concerns. She reassured him by pointing out that it was more difficult to advance in the higher ranks. The reports of that conversation had gotten around to the rest of the team and things had improved for a while, but Izumi didn't know how long it would be before explanations would no longer satisfy the team's desire for results. It didn't help that the very mention of the topic made Kouji close up like a clam.

Izumi chewed her lip and glanced sidelong at her fiancé. He looked back without the slightest interest in her worries. Everything from the peculiar half-smirk to the slight twitch of his left eyebrow confirmed it. When Izumi didn't stop staring at him, he sighed and changed tactics. Rather predictably, she forgot all about his problems when his hands ran down her hips to brace her upper thighs.

"Kouji!" Blushing a vibrant pink color, she moved her hands around to grasp his wrists and set them firmly at waist height.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No," she retorted huffily, "Was a bit too busy dealing with what you were _doing_."

He grinned, but said nothing else – letting her burn with curiosity.

A heavy wall of silence hung over their heads, which frustrated her because Kouji always got lost in thought about the most obscure things ever. More likely than not, she was going to regret poking around his mind and asking too many questions.

On the other hand, it would bother her too much not to know. "Well? Finish your sentence."

"I have to say…" Another pause.

"Kouji," she hissed warningly, barely noticing that both of his hands were now resting on her hips.

He didn't even blink. "I have to say…you would make a horrible maid."

Oh, and wasn't she just thrilled to hear that. Practically a happy ray of sunshine. "I am _not_ a maid, and I don't want to be!"

"Don't I know it." There was a look of amusement on Kouji's face. He firmly tightened his grip on her waist, pushing her down and back until she was practically leaning against the wall. Then his hands migrated back up to her neck and shoulders. Izumi stiffened and shoved her elbow between them. He hissed when it hit just below his sternum.

"Not the place. Not the time. Not appropriate. Get. Off!"

He blinked, lazily twirling her shortened blond hair with his index finger. "Since when did you care?"

Izumi sniffed, looking rather miserable as she answered, "Since my mother found out."

"Oh."

"Apparently, she doesn't want grandkids any time soon."

"Oh?"

"And she called specifically to talk about _protection_."

"…Oh." He promptly released the bundle of blonde hair in his hand. "She does realize that you're on birth control, right?"

Izumi scoffed. "She's a mother. Logic isn't part of her psychological makeup."

"It isn't?" His arms were locked just under the natural curve of her waist, forcing Izumi to lean against him for support or risk falling. He glanced at her with unfocused eyes while his mouth worked efficiently on the exposed skin of her shoulder.

Izumi bit her lip to suppress a soft whimper because otherwise Kouji would take it as encouragement. Really, her fiancé was horribly unpredictable when it came to their relationship. Some days he would seek out tactile affection like a starved man, but then others…

Kouji coughed purposefully. "We should probably get back to work." The arms around her waist were loose and relaxed. There was enough space for her to slip out, but she didn't move an inch until he reminded her with a rough kiss that pressed insistently against her lips. Then she was all too happy to punch him and walk away huffily. Kouji caught her fist, pulled it up, and spun her around, effectively throwing a wrench in that plan.

Izumi twirled obligingly for a while before she stopped and faced him directly. "You said it. Work. Now."

He snickered. "Yes, ma'am."

Ignoring him, Izumi picked up a dark gray box that was considerably lighter than it looked. On her way down, she heard the stairs creak weakly under her feet. She avoided the weak one near the end by habit and made a beeline for the car.

Kouji came down behind her, grimacing. "Those stairs creak more than a haunted house."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little creaking," she retorted, grinning. He stared at her disbelievingly and shook his head. Izumi laughed and turned her attention back to rearranging the boxes in the trunk of Kouichi's car, which had been 'borrowed' for the day. Kouji could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

It was already half full.

She considered donating some of her clothing to lighten up the baggage. Most of it consisted of jeans and t-shirts, after all. The few exceptions were all dresses that she never got a chance to wear. Plus, quite a bit of her wardrobe used to belong to Kouji, who wasn't attached to his clothes at all. He probably didn't even notice them missing. Izumi grinned to herself.

How odd. She might actually be excited about moving in with him.

Kouji interrupted her state of pensive happiness by setting a heavy box on her head. Izumi jumped and winced when her neck bent the wrong way. "Ouch!"

"Pay attention," he retorted.

"Bastard."

"Idiot." Kouji lifted the box away from her head and turned to stare at the trunk. "There's no way we're going to fit everything in there."

"We could make two trips," she offered.

He was looking at the car thoughtfully. "We could. Or I could kidnap you and recycle the rest. Would make things a lot easier."

Horrified, she whipped around and pinned him with a glare. "I have my swords in there."

"Oh." He paused. "Which box are they in? I'll make sure to set them aside."

"You are _not_ throwing anything away. Don't be wasteful." Izumi huffed and crossed her arms.

"I'm not being wasteful. I'm being practical. You have too many clothes."

"Hey, I'm not nearly as bad as most girls."

"True." He paused to clear his throat. Izumi instinctively straightened her back, waiting for the punchline. "You're probably a hermaphrodite."

"I am not!" she hissed indignantly.

"Could have fooled me."

"Oh, really. What part of me is hermaphroditic?"

"Well, you have too many clothes for a boy, but not enough for a girl. And you're too violent for a girl, but not enough for a boy. Also, there was that incident at the bar – "

She interrupted him with a horrified look. "I thought we agreed never to mention that again."

"I don't remember ever saying yes to that."

"She was _drunk_."

"And straight."

"And _high_."

"And straight."

"God, don't remind me." Izumi fisted her hands into her blond hair, trying to block out the memories. Kouji, however, was not so accommodating, as evidenced by the trademark arrogant smirk on his face. She swung her hand at his shoulder lazily. "I hate you."

"What was her name? Himiko?"

"Stop. Stop. Stop." Izumi was practically chanting. "That doesn't count. I am not a boy. I do not look like a boy."

He actually frowned at that. "Izumi, you're the vice captain of the kendo team. You've never been anything but a tomboy, so what's the problem with looking a little less girly than the rest?"

She glared at him. "It's the not my looks that are the problem. I could care less about that. I just don't like being compared to a hermaphrodite. It makes me sound like a worm."

"Oh." He considered her for a moment. "You're just as skinny as a worm, though. I can see the resemblance."

Izumi groaned. "You're a natural romantic, Kouji. You really are."

"So are you," he pointed out.

"Worms are ugly."

"Then you're the one and only pretty worm in the world." He shrugged. "Better?"

She actually thought about it. But not for long. "No."

"Sorry."

"Forgiven."

One of his hands reached up to stroke her lower lip tantalizingly. "Did you blow off enough steam or do we need to beat each other half to death later?"

"Wait, you made me argue with you so that I could blow off some steam?" Izumi stared at him with a bewildered, unadulterated smile on her face.

"Might as well. It takes too much effort to knock you out nowadays."

She had to bite back a snicker at the backhanded compliment. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Depends on how you channel your newly discovered invincibility. Anything good for the team is a good thing."

"Even post-tournament celebration parties?"

"_No_." He looked so horrified that his eyes literally opened to twice their normal size. Then they started to twitch, ever so slightly. Izumi promptly gave up on holding back laughter. It spilled out of her in giant waves of alternating highs and lows until she collapsed against the wall and choked weakly. By that time, Kouji had regained enough of his wits to pat her on the back.

She leaned into the gentle pressure between her shoulder blades and sighed. "What exactly _is_ your problem with parties?"

"Alcohol," he replied shortly.

"So what? There are worse things out there."

"True, but! Drunkenness is the root of all evil. Alcohol causes drunkenness. Therefore, alcohol is evil."

"You have such screwed up logic."

"Which is precisely why I am the most logical man alive."

"…What kind of conclusion is that?" Izumi huffed and lightly pressed her fingertip into his left cheek. Kouji smirked very, very slightly and turned around to bite her fingernail.

"I'm going to go get more boxes," he said decisively after taking another look at the trunk. "Since we're probably going to have to make a second trip."

"Mm-hmmm," she mumbled sleepily. "I just had a thought, Kouji."

"What?"

"Where am I going to sleep when we have one of those long, drawn-out fights that our friends hate so much?"

He considered the question with a thoughtful frown. "The couch?"

"How chivalrous of you," she said dryly.

Kouji blinked. "It was a joke."

"I know."

"I have a guest bedroom."

"I know."

"So why were you asking?"

"Because the guest bedroom doesn't have a _bed_."

"You could always sleep in a futon."

"Do you _have_ a futon?"

"Last I checked, there was such a thing as shopping."

"Fine, fine. If I end up kicking you out of your own bedroom, you'll know why."

"You shouldn't have told me. Forewarned is forearmed."

"This doesn't count as forewarning," she protested with a scowl. "You should have taken it for granted. Don't you ever think about the consequences before you jump into things? Actually, don't answer that."

"Izumi, I do think about the consequences…I just prefer to ignore them."

"Liar. You just want to make things hard for me." Izumi watched him climb up two stairs at a time, but it didn't help with the creaking problem at all. She wondered if greasing the joints would succeed where years' worth of gentle treatment hadn't. Then she wondered if it was even possible to grease stairs.

"No, I don't. I'm trying, you know."

"I know," she said under her breath, "but sometimes I can't tell."

"Depends on what bothers you the most." Kouji shrugged. "If it's something I can change without sacrificing too much of my dignity, I'll make the effort. Go on, tell me."

"No, no, don't bother. I mean," she twisted her face up in contemplation, leaning lopsidedly against the open trunk, "I do wish that you were a little more predictable, but that's all."

Kouji turned around on the top stair and fisted his hands on the banister. "Wouldn't you hate it if things were that easy?"

"Maybe. I would also get fewer headaches."

"Says the girl whose first reaction to being annoyed is punching the offender in the face." And with that, Kouji opened the door and vanished back inside, cutting off the torrent of sarcasm ready to be unleashed from her tongue. Izumi sighed in disappointment and followed him upstairs. Trust Kouji to have the most anti-climactic timing ever.

She picked up the boxes closest to the door, only to have them taken away when he passed her in the hall. "Kouji, those were mine!"

"Technically, they're _all_ yours."

"Which means that you could at the least leave some of the work for me," she muttered, following him all the way to the doorway with a disgruntled frown.

He threw her a disbelieving look. "You actually want to do manual labor? Be my guest. I'll be in the car if you change your mind."

Izumi sniffed disapprovingly. "It's not like we have to finish this today, you know. I've been packed for a week. What's your reason for coming here today of all days to help me move it all? I didn't know that you were capable of being this helpful."

"Impatience," he retorted flatly. "And because it's Monday and I might as well make _something_ go right on a Monday. Setting a precedent, you know."

"Right."

"It's true," Kouji protested indignantly, turning his head around so that she could see the expression on his face without squinting through the pile of packages in his arms. She appreciated the gesture but worried about the state of his neck muscles if he kept stretching them like that.

"You should pay attention to what's in front of you, Kouji."

"Even if I do, I won't be able to see anything but boxes." His voice was wry and gently sarcastic.

Izumi couldn't resist a knowing smile at that. "Don't break a leg."

"Couldn't afford to."

Ah – there it was. The perfect opening for a very, very long lecture. Izumi debated on whether or not to take it. She decided that there was no better time. "Yeah, because you work so hard. Kouji, I never even get to see you anymore. Where have you been for the past few weeks?"

"You see me at practice."

"Practice and only practice. Any other time it takes _hours_ to find you."

"Isn't that normal?" Kouji paused at the door and moved aside, obviously waiting for her to open it for him.

Izumi stayed right where she was. "No, it isn't."

"Can we have this discussion some other time?"

"Kouji," she said, very slowly and very determinedly. It slipped off her tongue like a reluctant little girl clinging to her mother's pants on the first day of school.

He sighed. "At least open the door, would you?"

"Just put the boxes down. I kind of want to talk."

"I can see."

She gave him a look of exasperation at his lack of cooperation. He returned her stare with equal exasperation at her lack of efficiency. This continued for a few minutes or so until both were ready to argue it out. Or fight it out. Whichever was more convenient and satisfying.

Kouji once again demonstrated his inability to _catch on_ by breaking eye contact and repeating his request for a doorholder. She had to admire his restraint, and show said admiration by actually holding the door.

He went out and went down the stairsteps, one by one.

So slowly.

And then there was dust.

"Kouji!"

There was dust.

"_Kouji!"_


	8. Fragile, part two

"_Kouji!"_

Even though Izumi couldn't see anything through the soft gray clouds, the sick sound of flesh and bone against concrete was more than enough. She stared down for as long as she possibly could, trying to penetrate through the translucent screen of dust. By now, she could see dark shapes at the bottom, but nothing clearly humanlike. The covered area extended all the way from the middle of the staircase to the driveway. Izumi walked as far as she could for a closer look, but the sight of broken wood stopped her from getting any further.

No, not just dust. Cold realization came when she looked down at her feet and saw the slight coat of gray-white particles on the wooden stairs. She kneeled down and reached out with her fingertip. The texture was gritty and raw. Wood dust.

The cloudy particles were dispelling at the top, much to her relief. Trembling slightly, Izumi tried again. "Kouji?"

This time, she heard a faint coughing sound.

It was accompanied by the return of her rational mind. There was no hesitation this time when she ran all the way up to her apartment and called the ambulance.

"You scared me," Izumi said almost two hours later, curled up like a sleepy kitten on the edge of the hospital bed.

Kouji just looked at her. Then he took a manila-colored writing pad into his hand and scrawled out a few choice curse words. Izumi realized musingly that he had been in a cursing mood all day. She couldn't blame him for that, all things considered.

She _could_, however, blame him for just about everything else. "You did," she repeated softly.

He blinked slowly and ponderously at her. Izumi recognized it as his 'why?' face. She nearly cried when she realized that the usual catty remarks were missing not because he was in a good mood but because he had been ordered not to strain himself. Kouji schooled his expression into something resembling worry when he saw her eyes blinking so rapidly.

"You okay?" he 'asked' with the writing pad.

Izumi looked at him with disbelief. "You're the one in the hospital," she pointed out dryly. "I think I should be asking that."

"You already did." She could practically hear the sarcastic tone in her head. The thought made her smile just a trace more genuinely than before.

"I have the right to ask," Izumi pointed out sweetly.

"And I have the right not to answer." Kouji shrugged very slightly, being careful not to move his chest at all. "I mean, writing about how much it sucks would get old after a while."

"How's your throat?"

Kouji rolled his eyes. "It's actually fine, but they're worried about how much dust I inhaled."

Izumi tried her best not to laugh at his stubbornness. More than anything, she knew that it was an act put on to make his hospital visit as short as possible. He hated feeling like an invalid. "Well, at least it's a good opportunity to practice your handwriting, right?"

"Hardy har har." He underlined the words several times. "They need to give me my laptop."

"I told them not to," Izumi admitted freely, reaching over to touch his loose black hair. The hospital had taken Kouji's hairband off to make him more comfortable, but she could tell that it bothered him, especially since people were constantly commenting on how soft and feminine he looked with his hair down. Izumi could sympathize; it was the same reception that she would get for tossing on a miniskirt.

Kouji just closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. He turned the page, writing very slowly, "Then don't complain about my handwriting."

"I'm not," she replied with a haughty look. "It's legible. Barely."

"The hospital drugs are messing up my hand eye coordination. Not my fault."

"No, I guess not." Izumi tried to swallow but couldn't. The unfamiliar sad feeling in her stomach was twisting and churning like a drowned butterfly. She ignored it perfectly.

Kouji paused for just the fraction of a second. His fingers tapped the pen very slowly, as if contemplating what to write. In the end, nothing seemed to come to mind.

Izumi sighed. "The doctors put you on a lot of pain medication, didn't they?"

"Of course. I'm still in the mood to talk to you. There has to be an explanation for that."

"_Thanks_," she replied coldly, genuinely insulted. She snatched her hands back and folded her arms across her chest. Kouji turned away with his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to her discontent. Izumi knew better. Cold, detached demeanor aside, Kouji was perfectly aware of just how upset she was with him - but it was one thing to understand her feelings, it was quite another to feel that she was justified.

He tapped her on the shoulder. Izumi jolted to attention and nearly tried to take his arm off. She stopped herself just in time to realize where they were and why they were there. Kouji's lips twisted into an ironic smirk. Then he scrawled lightly onto the writing pad, "Are you angry?"

"Of course I am, dumbass," she said softly.

He didn't apologize. Izumi didn't expect him to. "Why?"

"Do you really need to ask?" she countered.

His pen tapped impatiently on the notepad. He wrote, "_Why?_" and underlined several times, as if simply repeating it would knock some compliance into her.

Izumi didn't even budge.

Finally, Kouji sighed and turned around to face her completely. "What's wrong this time?" His message took up the entire page.

Aggrieved, Izumi muttered, "You're such a paper waster."

He rolled his eyes and stabbed the pad with the tip of his pen for emphasis.

"I get it," Izumi retorted, forcing herself to resist a smile, "but you're going to have to apologize first."

"I'm not sorry."

"Why?" she repeated, tightening the grip on her upper arms until the skin was nearly white. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Not really."

"That's not fair. You're on medication right now. Of course it doesn't bother you."

He shrugged again.

"You're so selfish," Izumi declared. Her voice was pitched higher than usual, to the point of straining her vocal cords, but she either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I know."

"Yes," she said tightly, "You know. You always know. Goddamn it, Kouji, don't be so self-centered! Has it ever crossed your mind that the team actually cares about you? Don't take us for granted!"

"I don't." His handwriting was slightly tilted to the right.

She snatched his pen away from him – a feat that was only possible because of his drugged state. "You need to listen."

Kouji gave her a wry look but tilted his head obediently.

"You heard what the doctor said, didn't you?"

He frowned.

"No?"

After a short pause, Kouji reached out his hand expectantly.

Izumi glared at him and internally debated whether or not she should give in. She decided not to. There was no need for him to reply just yet. "Don't patronize me, Kouji. It's not that I'll beat you up if you don't apologize – you know that I won't. I just want some acknowledgement that you didn't do the right thing. Please."

Kouji looked at her warily. Every once in a while he would sneak a glance at the pen stuffed into her shirt pocket, but given their respective positions in the hospital room, it would take too much effort to steal it back. He turned away and nodded rigidly.

Izumi felt nauseous and disgusted with herself, even though she had no reason to be. There was nothing she could do to make things better, and she didn't try to pretend otherwise. A thrashing or two wouldn't cure problems of this magnitude. It was all up to Kouji now, and Kouji would never accept her help or her sympathy. He was just too stubborn. Once his arm was laid out on the side of the bed, she began to trace the path of his muscles from origin to insertion. Biceps, Triceps, Pronator teres, Brachioradialis… she sighed. "You silly idiot. Even if I say thank you, you're not going to change at all."

He didn't react at all to her touch – which was to be expected, of course. Izumi lifted his wrist to her lips. He flexed his hand suddenly in response, running his fingers around her jawbone until his palm was flush against the skin of her cheek. They stayed like that for quite a while, listening to the nearly silent ticking of the hallway clock.

"It's two o'clock," she said to his unanswered question.

Kouji slid his hand up to the side of her neck, guiding her head to the extra space on the hospital pillow.

"You've been working hard," Izumi mumbled into the soft, sanitized cloth. "I know."

No response. Kouji had closed his eyes.

She went on without even looking at him. "You know it too."

A slight twitch was all the answer she needed.

"Do you feel guilty, Kouji?"

First, he looked as though he wanted to say something. His lips opened to protest something or another, but nothing came out. Instead, there was an awkward silence. Despite the reputation of aloofness that Kouji had built up, their usual arguments didn't really leave much room for peace and quiet. Kouji looked vaguely uncomfortable, but only she would have realized it. Izumi turned all of her attention to watching his face, which was her biggest mistake yet. He took advantage of their proximity to slide his hand into her shirt pocket. She jerked away, but it was too late. He twirled his prize between two fingers and sent black letters flying down the page with a truly astonishing speed. "Yes and no. Depends on what you're talking about."

After her heartbeat finally slowed down to normal levels, Izumi dropped onto the ground next to him and laughed weakly. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Tell me what 'it' is and then we'll talk."

"Never mind." She blew out slowly, trying to expel the poisonous feelings of guilt from her mind. Taking responsibility was fine, but it was bad to dwell. She would apologize to him later .

"That was a rather short rant, you know, even by my standards. Don't hold back just because I'm in the hospital."

"That's not the point!" Izumi glared at her fiancé balefully. She nearly bit her own tongue during the moment of distraction. "You wouldn't be lying here in the first place if…if you were just a little more careful. You know? I don't care about winning. I thought..."

"I don't either," he wrote on the yellow notepad, eyes firmly trained on the paper in front of him.

"So why the hell did you train so hard?" She clenched the white sheets in her fists. "Why the hell shouldn't I be angry? It's not every day that I find out my own _fiancé_ had stress fractures in three of his ribs and didn't tell me about any of them!"

"I'm not sorry."

"Why the hell not?" Izumi nearly screamed. Hearing the echo of her voice stopped her short; she tried to calm down but with minimal success. "Why the hell don't you understand? I'm not engaged to you for the fun of it. Didn't you realize that?"

She knew that it was a hopeless cause, even before reading his reply. "I didn't want to worry you."

"So instead of worrying me you decided to help me _carry_ some heavy boxes to your apartment? Are you fucking insane? Do you actually enjoy being in the hospital? No? Well, try harder not to be so stupid next time!"

"It wasn't my fault that the stairs broke."

"The stairs didn't even fracture your ribs! The training did! Don't try to get away with an argument like that!"

"What do you want me to say?"

Izumi looked at him with disbelief. "There's nothing you can _say _that'll make this situation better."

"Do you prefer honesty?"

"Yes," she said flatly. "I always do."

"It hurts like a bitch. Are you happy now?" Even in writing, his attitude came off as deliberately insulting.

"No," Izumi replied, wide-eyed and accusing. "No, I'm not. That's not fair, Kouji. Don't you feel guilty for leaving the kendo team like this?"

"That's not fair either."

"You're going to have to deal with us sooner or later. It might as well be sooner."

"Why not later?" he wheedled rather unpersuasively. She didn't even look at the paper.

"Let's get this conversation over with, Kouji. What are we going to do now? You're in no condition to compete next week. I don't care how stubborn you are."

"I would probably still win," he scrawled on the edge of the paper.

"That's not enough." Izumi looked down at her hands. The calloused skin on her fingertips looked dry and gray next to the warm tan tone of her wrists. Years of doing what she loved best had abused the limits of her body, but she wasn't foolhardy enough to replace 'abuse' with 'torture.' "The doctor's been kind enough to keep quiet about your injuries, but the nurses aren't under the same obligation – the news will be all over the school by tomorrow morning. Even if you do have a reputation for being completely and utterly reckless, this takes the cake. You are _not_ going to that competition. There are too many people who look up to you. I don't want to encourage them to follow your stupidity."

"So?"

Izumi stared. Out of all possible reactions, that was one that she definitely didn't expect. "Don't you care?"

"Tomoki will be the vice captain from now on," Kouji wrote calmly. He was effectively ignoring her rant, an impressive achievement considering how close she was to his ear. "And you'll take my place. It's only logical."

Izumi's mouth opened and closed. "What? Kouji…"

He looked at her with a peculiar smirk on his face. "I'm fine. Isn't it a good thing that he's going to get some experience?"

"You could have chosen a better way to let him get experience," she replied dully, dropping into the chair disbelievingly. "Why are you so impossible?"

"Don't worry. I'm just better at dealing with crises than most people. It's a good thing."

"Better? That's debatable."

"No," he wrote patiently, "It's not."

Izumi had to give him that much. "I accept your reasoning," she said quietly, "but why couldn't you do things the normal way?"

"I'm sorry?" Kouji made sure to write the question mark at the end very noticeably, as if she didn't already know to take his apologies with a grain of salt.

It didn't bother her as much as it used to. Even if he spent the rest of his life taking unnecessary risks, Izumi wouldn't know how to deal with him any other way. She just had to make do, like always. "Kouji, I'm your vice captain, right?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Did you ever have any doubt? What a strange question."

Izumi ignored the sarcasm in his reply and focused on taking control of the conversation again. "That means I can reject your decisions if they don't seem to be in the team's best interest, right?"

"You won't."

"No, I won't," Izumi admitted, "but I've got a choice in the matter. That's all I wanted to know."

"Of course you do, Captain."

"Don't call me that."

"You're going to have to accept it sooner or later."

"I know, but even if I'm going to have to hear it from everyone else, it feels wrong coming from you."

"Why? You have problems with the way I treat the team, don't you? This is your chance."

"I don't want this chance," Izumi shot back with exasperation. Her voice had gone soft and scratchy like burlap. From the tension in her fists, Kouji could see that she was barely restraining herself from punching the lights out of him. Izumi read the self-assured expression on his face and shook her head doubtfully at the sense of déjà vu. After Kouji stepped up to the captaincy two years ago, it had always been _her_ job to reassure _him_, not the other way around. Even if he was all right with this new arrangement, she wasn't.

"Well, it's a bit too late to say that." Kouji ran out of ink on the last letter and ended up ripping through the paper by pushing down too hard. The confused look on his face was priceless. Izumi had to bite her lip hard to suppress the giggles. She took the pad out of his hands and flipped to the next page.

"I understand. You know, this will lay a lot of rumors to rest."

Kouji took the notebook back. "What do you mean?"

"Most people at school don't believe that you have bones…"

He looked at her and wrote, very matter-of-factly, "I don't think that it's possible to do kendo without bones, Izumi."

"Kouji, it's a perfectly legitimate theory!"

"That I have no bones?"

"Well, think about it. Do _demons_ have bones?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Exactly. Since most people think that you're really a demon in disguise, it's a logical conclusion that you have no bones." Izumi hid a smile at the perturbed look on his face. She herself couldn't relate to the practice of gossiping, but listening to what other people thought about Kouji was _entertaining_ to say the least. It was like the kendo team lived in a completely separate sphere from everyone else, maybe even a separate reality. Would things change if she took over as captain? Probably not.

"I think they'll be more surprised to learn that I'm not in the hospital because of you."

She was sorely tempted to strangle him.

Would things change?

Oh, hell no.

...

Thank god.

* * *

There you have it, part two. I'm currently working on a new project, which means that all of my inspiration is messed up. Most of my still updating stories are midway on their next chapters. Gotta find the inspiration to actually finish one, ha.

The next one-shot is going to be set just before Freudian.


	9. Face

Oh my god. It's been way too long since I updated this story...

Please enjoy the update, it took a while XD

Warning: mature themes.

And if you don't get the ending, read the chapter again :D

* * *

Face

* * *

If there was one thing – and only one thing – that she had learned about being so close to Minamoto Kouji, it was that people misunderstood what was going on _all the time_.

Now, normally, this wasn't a serious problem. Izumi didn't care if a few too many students started giggling at her when she met up with Kouji late at night to talk about how the team was doing. A few off-color jokes at their expense didn't bother her too much, either. She didn't even mind listening to lewd suggestions from her more immature classmates.

On the other hand, being interrogated about the state of her love life was an annoyance she could just barely tolerate without trying to murder everyone in sight. She was old enough to have the right to privacy, even if no one seemed to care about her rights.

Case in point: she ran to the school café for ice cream in March on an ordinary day that ended up being much more trouble than it was worth. Kouji came along with her. He even tried a spoonful of her ice cream, but his feedback had been less than enthusiastic. She got the impression that their ice cream preferences were almost as incompatible as their personalities.

That was it, though. They shared _one spoonful_ of moose tracks ice cream. According to Kouji, it wasn't even that good. Izumi begged to differ. They disagreed. They fought. Business as usual, really.

But people were convinced that it was the most romantic thing ever, and they congratulated her for weeks afterward.

Izumi didn't understand why until she saw the _picture_. In the yearbook, no less! She had been horrified to turn the page and see Kouji sneaking a bite from her bowl – if only because a few important details were missing. He had been smirking at her in a very un-romantic way at the time. Too bad the photograph didn't show that.

Too bad the photograph even _existed_.

A whole summer later, Izumi was still embarrassed.

Kouji shrugged it off like he didn't care, but he pointedly avoided the ice cream place after that. It was so utterly typical of him. It was also utterly typical that he never asked why she was so hesitant to tell people about their relationship. What a relief. She wouldn't know how to answer him.

On the other hand, there was no point in hiding their relationship anymore - not that either of them took pains to hide it. Kouji was more reserved than she was, but even he didn't really care if a few people caught them behind dark corners.

Now Izumi was starting to wonder if they should have been more discreet. It would have certainly saved her from this conversation.

She fixed her eyes on the girl in front of her and refilled her cup of tea again. Then she set it down with a little more force than necessary.

Satou Miki winced when the ceramic cup hit the table. "I'm really sorry, Orimoto-san."

Izumi shrugged half-heartedly. Impatiently. "It's alright."

"I really didn't want to say anything," she mumbled, casting a wary glance at Toru. The senior gave her a dark look and crossed his arms. Izumi grabbed his wrist under the table and clenched warningly.

Then she smiled at Miki. "Can you tell me anything else?"

"Umm…" The girl scrunched up her nose until the tiny fan of wrinkles on either side began to lift up her glasses. "I don't think so. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to…I mean." She turned red.

"When did it happen?"

"Monday, I think? I was - I was trying to get my lunch."

Monday? Izumi felt like smashing her head against the table. "Alright. Describe the girl to me again?"

"Brown hair," Miki recited softly. "Gray eyes, wearing…um…a…"

She raised an eyebrow. "You got close enough to see her eye color?"

"I was right behind them."

"You're sure that it was Minamoto?"

"Yes. He was, um…" There was that blush again.

This was getting old. Izumi wanted things to be simple and straightforward. In other words: no relationship drama. Ever. Kouji was more than happy to oblige, but everyone else? Well, obviously, that was just too much to ask for. She was in college, after all.

And now she was talking to someone who had seen her captain kissing another girl. At lunch, on Monday.

The blond junior sighed heavily.

Miki flinched and started to slide back in the plastic chair, eyes moving over the room frantically.

Izumi ignored her. She waved at the waiter and commanded him to bring her the bill, pulled out a few folded yen notes, and gathered her jacket. "I'll see you later."

The other girl raised her hand but didn't even get the chance to wave before Izumi strolled out of the door. Toru followed right on her heels with a concerned scowl on his face. "Orimoto!"

She stopped and shot him an inquiring look. "What?"

"Do you really think - ? I mean - " He interrupted himself before letting his next words come out in a rush. "You don't really believe that girl, do you?"

Izumi blinked. "I don't think she was trying to lie, if that's what you're asking."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"And it was a waste of my time. She didn't tell me anything new."

"_What_?"

She paused just long enough for dramatic effect before bursting into laughter. "Oh, god, Toru…you're so gullible! The look on your face!"

The senior huffed. "I'm just saying!"

Izumi collapsed against the wall and shook with snickers. "We're not even going out, you know. It'd be kind of stupid to break up."

"Look," he brushed his hair back impatiently. "That's only because Minamoto won't get off his lazy ass and ask you out. You've been together _de facto_ for years."

"It's not laziness," she replied with a grin. "We agreed to do things this way."

"That's your problem, not mine."

"Exactly. You should probably butt out." Izumi gave him a smart little salute before sauntering off. Toru grabbed her shoulder. In the interests of letting him keep his limbs for the upcoming match, she didn't counterattack. "What?"

"You should probably talk to Minamoto."

"No."

"Why not?" He looked openly confused. "Don't you want to find out for sure?"

"If it's true, we can deal with it after the next competition."

"That's the cowardly way to take care of things, and I never pegged you for a coward."

Izumi pushed his hand off her shoulder and let the smile slide from her face. "What do you think I should do, then?"

"I don't know!" He backed away and started gesturing all over the place. "Talk to him. Yell at him. Find out where he's been going. Do something normal, damn it."

Izumi sighed. "I'll talk to him. Okay?"

"Fine." Toru gave her a half-hearted smile. "Sorry. I think I'm getting too stressed out about this."

"That's no surprise."

"Am I overreacting?"

"Yes," she answered, without hesitation.

"I'm making up for you." Toru glared at her. "Why do you have to be so rational all the time? Don't you care that Minamoto might be cheating on you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why won't you do anything about it?"

"Because I can't." Izumi glared at him. What did he want her to do, throw a tantrum? She wasn't a kindergartener. She could handle herself.

Toru folded his arms, face darkened. "Are you just going to laugh it off?"

"If I can find something to laugh about. Which I will."

"It's not funny, Orimoto."

"Actually, it is." She gave him a look of exasperation.

Behind her, someone brushed her shoulder. "What's not funny?"

Startled, Izumi whipped around and smacked empty air. Kouji dodged the incoming blow by sliding to the left and bracing himself against the wall. It took a long time for her heart to stop convulsing, but in the meantime, she did a fairly good job of keeping a poker face. On the other hand, Toru looked like a deer caught in headlights. When the kendo captain glanced at him meaningfully, the senior promptly dashed to the hallway exit and left the building, instantly understanding that his presence was unwanted.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes and made to smack Kouji – successfully this time. He scowled in complaint. She grinned and buried her fingers into his shirt, worries completely forgotten. He gave her a disapproving half-frown, but his tired eyes were nearly closed and killed the effect.

Izumi poked him with her index finger and asked, "How was the meeting?"

He grimaced and started walking toward the couches in the lounge. Izumi lifted herself up until she was standing on the tips of her toes with her hands around his shoulders. He dragged her along without acknowledging the extra weight on his back. At the doorway, she let go and ran in front of him so that she could claim her favorite seat. Kouji stopped and wrinkled the edges of his lips. When he spoke, it was short and aggrieved. "I was going to sit there."

"I got here first," she replied impishly.

"You hitched a ride on me. Cheater."

Izumi laughed before moving to the side to make room for him. He responded by sitting on the other couch, completely ignoring her offer. She glared at him, restraining her smile through sheer will power. "Fine. See if I ever try to be nice to you again."

"_Again_?" he repeated incredulously, slumped on the sofa, "I didn't know you were trying to be nice at all."

Izumi laughed and took a few moments to taste the companionable silence before bringing up heavier topics. "So how _was_ the meeting? Did the administrator give you permission?"

"I have to meet with the coach first."

"Ouch." She didn't have to try to sound sympathetic. It came out naturally. "How's Himi-kun holding up?"

"He doesn't even know."

"Then we should tell him."

"No." Kouji gave her a stubborn look. "If he finds out that he's causing us such a headache, his performance will go down. Then it won't even be worth the headache to keep him on the team."

She was quiet. Then quiet and angry. Then loud and angry. "Why are they blocking freshmen from the club? You were a freshman _and_ vice captain. They didn't complain about that!"

"Actually, they did. I had to get signatures of approval."

"From who?"

"The coach and Ikusa."

She nearly choked. "Ikusa let you?"

"He thought I was easy to control."

Izumi was stunned into silence. Her eyes were wider than dinner plates. She finally managed to get her vocal cords working again after several minutes of blankness. "But that's just preposterous. Everyone knows that you're much better than him."

Kouji grinned at her. "He didn't."

She buried her head into her arms.

"I know." He stood up and pushed her back to the side of the couch so that he could finally join her. "So, I have to go see the coach."

"Yeah, you should do that." She folded up her legs and inched into the soft plush cushions on the side. Kouji didn't close the gap between them immediately. He stayed on his half of the couch and glanced at her every so often. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the paisley fabric. When he surveyed the doorway, obviously to make sure that no one was coming, Izumi couldn't help herself. "Just get over here. It's not like anyone is going to be _surprised_."

"I don't want any more photographs."

"Neither do I, but you're being ridiculously paranoid."

Kouji blinked. "I thought you didn't like voyeurs."

She stared at him. "Wait – I didn't say anything about voyeurs. I was talking about people who just so happen to pass by."

"In other words, opportunistic voyeurs. Still voyeurs."

"Not exactly. Voyeurs do it on purpose."

"That's irrelevant."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. People can _accidentally_ watch you shower, or they can _purposefully_ watch you shower, but it's the same you and it's the same shower."

"It pisses me off more when people do it on purpose."

He gave her a shrewd look. "This isn't about privacy, is it?"

Izumi stopped short. "No," she admitted, "Not really. Let's talk about this later."

"Why later?"

"Because I don't want to fight right now." She shrugged. "Maybe after the competition."

He was quiet. "What's the point? If we avoid fighting, we'll just get more and more pissed off at each other."

"It'll make the team feel better."

Kouji dropped his face into his hand, exasperated. "Izumi, at this point, they'll be begging for us to start fighting again. They can't live without it."

"We don't fight _that_ much."

He gave her a look.

She glared at him. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"You start." Kouji slumped so low on the couch that he actually started sliding down.

"I'm not your girlfriend," she said flatly.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "No. You aren't. I thought we already went over this."

"We did."

"And…?"

Izumi huffed. "I was giving you a hint, bastard."

He paused. Then he blinked. Then he smirked. Then he snickered. Then he laughed out loud. "Izumi, are you asking me to ask you out?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." She crossed her arms. "I don't like the way we are right now."

"So," he shifted so that their arms were just barely touching, "you want to reevaluate our _relationship_."

Izumi grimaced.

"Sorry, I know you don't like that word. You're going to have to let me off the hook this time."

"Okay," she said quietly. "Go ahead."

"No, no, you're supposed to go first."

"I already told you what I think, Kouji."

"Tell me again. I still don't get your point."

"I don't think I _have_ a point," Izumi replied, a little disconcerted. "I'm just frustrated. It feels like we're going nowhere."

"That's probably because we _are_." Kouji laid his hand on her back somewhat cautiously. When she didn't remove it, he stretched his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. "Well?"

"I'd like more of this."

"This?" He looked at her blankly.

"Touching without sex."

"Oh." He paused. "That was a really sudden change of subject."

"I guess. Not really, though." Izumi blew a few stray bangs out of her face.

The golden strands flipped up and tickled Kouji's jawline. He responded by rubbing his chin absently and muttering, "So, less sex, more hugging."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not really."

She gave him a skeptical look. "You sure? You don't seem the…hugging type."

"Neither do you."

Izumi shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm not, but I haven't been in the mood for anything else. It'll probably change by next week."

He nodded. "I was going to suggest taking a break anyway. There's too much going on."

"Thanks."

"Why're you thanking me?" Kouji flicked her on the forehead – something he hadn't done for months. Izumi was caught off guard by the sudden pangs of nostalgia. She barely heard his next question. "When do you think things will be normal again?"

"Normal?" she repeated quizzically, "When were we _ever_ normal?"

"Relatively normal, I mean."

"I'm still waiting for a definition, Kouji."

He shrugged wearily, eyebrows knitting together into what had become his normal expression: pained and stressed out. She ran her fingertips over his eyelids, closing them and rubbing circles over the thin skin. He touched her wrist. "I'm fine."

"You're upset."

"Not at _you_," he replied dully. "I wish I were, though. Would've been easier to deal with."

"Sorry. I don't feel like being aggravating today."

"Oh, but you are." He gave her a brief smirk. "It's just that I'm completely used to it now."

She glared at him. "Oh, really? In that case, I might have to break up with you."

"If you want to, go ahead..."

That hurt, and she told him so in no uncertain terms by hitting him on the head. "Bastard. Why can't you be a normal, hormone-driven male for once?"

"That's exactly what I am."

"No, you're much more practical. Too practical."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I can't force you to do anything."

"That's only true because I've learned how to deal with your quirks."

"Oh...really? You have?"

Kouji gave her a slight glare. "Don't try me."

"I won't." Izumi had a wide grin on her face. "Really. Thank you."

He tilted his head and looked despairingly at her. "Alright, if you keep thanking me for no reason, I'm going to plug my ears and ignore you."

"What?" She gave him an anguished pout. "I was thanking you for not being a bastard today."

"That's easier said than believed." Kouji extended his legs out and rested them on the coffee table, looking for all the world like he owned the entire building. It was probably the smirk. Definitely the smirk. "I'm sure that some people would call me a bastard no matter what I did."

Izumi reluctantly agreed with him, but... "That's only because they don't know you."

"And you do?"

"We're friends, aren't we?" A pause. "At least friends. I think so. I don't know."

Kouji shook his head bemusedly.

She felt the odd need to apologize.

He didn't feel the need to hear it. "Maybe I should just ask you out."

"Maybe." Izumi chewed on her lip. "Then again, maybe not. Damn it."

No response.

She toyed with the cushion again. "Don't you ever wish that things weren't so complicated?"

"If I wanted something simple, then I would've gone to a prostitute. Easier and cheaper."

His almost-girlfriend pulled herself up to a sitting position. "But you don't like prostitutes."

He acknowledged her point with a clipped nod and a faint grin. "It's against my principles to screw around with girls who don't like me."

It didn't even occur to Izumi that she could ask him about the mysterious girl with brown hair and gray eyes. Instead, she smiled a dimpled smile and asked cheekily, "What if they learn to like you?"

"I still wouldn't do it."

"But you just said – "

"That's just part of it." Kouji shrugged. "I don't like call girls - it's a personal preference. Paying for sex is kind of…"

"Kind of?"

He crawled with his elbows until he was halfway sitting up. "Can't think of the right word. Too tired."

Izumi nodded understandingly. "Of course."

They laid in silence. It was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Izumi absently twirled her hair, then his. He didn't even flinch, which was more reassuring than anything he could have said about the rumors. She knew for a fact that he would never be this comfortable around her if Miki's story was true. Speaking of which… "Hey. Mi-na-mo-to."

"What?"

"A strange girl came to talk to me today."

"And?"

"Nothing. It was just an ordinary conversation."

"Then why did you mention it?"

"Because someone told me to."

Kouji gave her an odd look, like a cross between frowning and scowling. "Alright, that's the second time you've changed the topic on me. What am I missing?"

"Not my story to tell." She batted her eyelashes at him and grinned. "Weren't you going to go see the coach today? It's already six."

"Oh, shit," he breathed.

Izumi slapped him on the back cheerfully. "Good luck. Maybe he'll be less stubborn today."

"Considering what happened on Monday? I doubt it. It took so long I had to skip lunch..."

"I know. I was there."

He couldn't figure out why she was laughing so hard.


	10. First

Because I don't give this AU enough love.

Here's their first meeting, enjoy!

* * *

FIRST

* * *

"Is he alright?" She peeked, then wished she hadn't, because the guy propped against the wall promptly crashed to the floor. "Oooh."

The few people within earshot quietly took swigs of their respective drinks, alcoholic or otherwise, before offering their silent support of whatever she was planning to do about it. Izumi grimaced. Of course. The bystander effect.

Pity that she had too much of a conscience to leave him there. Even more pity that the young man in question had at least twenty centimeters on her. Izumi probably wouldn't be able to lift him from the floor, even if she really wanted to. That would require the kind of upper body strength she didn't have, despite years of disciplined training.

Plus, she really didn't want to be known for carrying boys around. A tomboy reputation was hard to shake off, even though it was ridiculously easy to earn. Years of high school had taught her that much, at least.

Izumi took hold of her fellow student's shoulders and pushed him up so that his back was flat against the wall. Then she absently checked his pulse, pressing her index and middle finger into the thickly muscled jawline. He looked like an athlete, which she was glad to see. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and so was his breathing. Besides the obvious fact that he had passed out, she couldn't find anything wrong with him.

So. She could either leave the guy here (not an option), carry him out (not an option), call the police (not an option), call the ambulance (hmmm), or call whoever was on the guy's speed dial to see if she couldn't get someone to take him home. Now, there's an idea.

Izumi got on her knees and fished through the worn jean pockets for the telltale metal edge of a cellphone. She found a bundle of wrappers, a single unused cigarette, three crumpled yen bills, and finally a folded note. There was nothing else. Shrugging off the obvious lack of what she was looking for, she unbent the little piece of paper and was greeted with a phone number.

Almost against her better judgment, she called it. It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

One, two, three rings. She started wondering what the hell she would _say_ if someone actually picked up.

Four, five, six. She tried not to think about it. At any point, it was better to try _something_ than to leave him there.

Seven, eight – "Hello?"

"Hi," she said, her throat suddenly very dry.

Silence. Then, "Who is this?"

What, no introduction? Izumi felt slightly affronted and slightly absurd at the same time. "There's a drunk guy passed out in the hallway and he had your phone number in his pocket. Do you happen to know…?"

She trailed off, suddenly realizing that calling a random number that she found in somebody's pocket was probably not one of her better ideas.

The person on the other end sighed sleepily and asked, "Does he have brown hair?"

Brown hair? Well, it was _sort _of brown…Izumi peered a little closer. "I think it is."

"When I say brown," the earpiece droned patiently, "I mean kind of starchy dark orange with yellow and red."

Izumi honestly couldn't think of a better way to describe it. "Yeah, that sounds about right." Through the static of the telephone, she could hear papers being shuffled around.

The voice returned with a toneless, drowsy question, "Where are you right now?"

"Well, you know Matsuda's room?"

"Who doesn't?" His tone was dry.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Izumi laughed, mostly because her brain finally caught up to her mouth and she finally realized that she was actually _having_ this conversation. Bad idea or no, it was working. "The door's open, you don't have to knock. Where does he live? The…drunk guy, I mean."

"I honestly have no clue - "

She was momentarily horrified. "_What_?"

"Let me finish. I have no clue, but he can stay at my place until morning."

"Oh, good," Izumi breathed a sigh of relief.

"I guess."

He obviously wasn't happy about being dialed so late at night to help a drunk college student – few people would be, in all fairness – but he sounded sincere enough. She felt sort of guilty for raining on his Friday night. There were probably many things that he'd rather be doing. "Is it really okay? I _could_ just call the ambulance…"

"No, I can handle this," he replied, with just a hint of exasperation.

Izumi felt the slightest twinge of doubt about whether or not this was the best course of action, but it wasn't enough to change her mind, and it probably wouldn't be enough to change his. "Thank you very much."

His voice eased into a slow drawl. "You're welcome to thank me, but I'm waiting to hear those words from Kanbura first."

Izumi shrugged, wondering if he meant it literally. "Suit yourself. His name's Kanbura?" she asked, looking at the young man sprawled on the floor.

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

Izumi narrowed her eyes and asked, "Are you his friend?" She didn't mean to sound suspicious, but it was late, and she was tired, and she would much rather ask rude questions than be responsible for whatever misfortune befell a drunk freshman.

"No," came the instantaneous reply, before his tone softened just a bit. "More like semi-distant acquaintances."

"Oh," Izumi stammered, wondering how she was supposed to respond to that.

"I know him well enough to expect something like this to happen," he sighed. "That idiot."

"_Oh_," she replied, faintly amused. Boys. "Well, I'm gonna stay with him until you get here."

"Thanks. Is he in danger of dying?"

"I don't think so, but you never know with things like this."

"…Would you be offended if I cursed?"

"Not at all."

"Fuck my life," he said, as serene and calm as a human being could be.

She was still laughing fifteen minutes later, after he hung up on her without a proper goodbye. She didn't even have it in her to feel insulted. Thankfully, there was no one in the hallway anymore. Izumi didn't feel like explaining her sudden bout of hysteria.

It would probably sound weird to anyone else.

The drunk guy mumbled something and she instantly snapped to attention. "Hello?"

He shifted, sighed, and fell silent once more.

Izumi scowled. Well, wasn't that just anti-climactic. She amused herself by rocking back and forth on her silver-colored heels. It started to hurt her feet, so she stopped. A quick glance to the clock on the wall told her that only a few minutes had passed. Hopefully, it wouldn't take much longer…

A soft coughing sound startled her – was he already here? – so she straightened up and turned around, only to jump back when she found a stranger standing less than an arm's length away.

"Holy shit!" Izumi crashed into the cheap drywood wall. Her heart slammed against her ribcage while goosebumps broke out all over her flesh. She had honestly never felt so scared in her life. No one had ever gotten that close without alerting her of their presence. Not even her beloved sensei could sneak up on her like that if she was paying attention properly. She cursed herself for letting down her guard.

The man in the hall stared back.

Izumi instinctively looked him over, quickly cataloging his appearance. Plain t-shirt, khaki pants – lots of pockets, but they looked empty – that hung just past his ankles. Not particularly rich, then, but not poor either. It _was _late at night, maybe he had just thrown something on. Somehow, though, Izumi doubted it. He was too well put together. She couldn't tell if his hair was slicked back or tied, but it was neatly combed despite the late hour. He was maybe ten centimeters taller than her. Not too much for her to handle, even in close combat. Then she looked at his eyes and a chill ran down her entire body.

They were blue. Not the flat color that came from contacts, but a radial wheel of blue iris that reminded her of the dark ocean. Her first impression was that he had to be a foreigner, but his face was soft and angular in all the usual places. The only thing that stood out was his eye color. Izumi half-wished that he would look away, or blink, or do _something_ else. He didn't so much as shift despite the glare of light from the room behind her. It was unnerving.

"Hi," she managed.

"Hey," he replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.

It was the same voice she had heard on the phone, minus the sleepiness. Izumi took a deep breath and wondered what the hell she was doing. This wasn't the back alley of her hometown. This was a Japanese university. There was little to no chance that he was a gun-toting, trigger-happy mob boss. Then again, even if he was, she already knew how to deal with it.

"Um," she said intelligently. "Are you here for the drunk guy?"

"Yes," he replied. Then he glanced away and it was like a noose had dropped from her throat.

"Oh."

He surveyed the unconscious student on the floor, frowning. When he knelt down, Izumi instinctively moved away, relieved that she didn't have to worry anymore. "Thank you for calling me," he said awkwardly, as if he wasn't used to the words.

"No problem. It's no problem at all."

He glanced at her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Prompted by the skeptical look on his face, Izumi quickly amended her previous statement. "I mean, it _is_ a problem, but it's not _my_ problem." It took her a few moments to realize what she just said, and then a few more to fling her hands over her mouth. "Oh!"

"It's alright," he replied, a faint smirk on his face.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling her face grow hot.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be."

Despite the fact that he didn't seem to be offended, Izumi felt absolutely horrible. It was like she had suddenly de-aged to a five-year-old, ready to be scolded for some brutally honest thing that she really shouldn't have said. He shot her a steadily broadening smirk every few seconds. In no way did it make her feel better.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out again.

"Didn't I tell you not to be?" he countered.

"If I _feel_ sorry," she replied, with some annoyance, "I _say_ it. You don't have to be so rude about it."

She had the satisfaction of seeing bewilderment flash on his face before it was gone like it had never been. "_I'm_ rude?"

Should she? She should. A little sarcasm never hurt anybody. "Bingo!"

"It was a rhetorical question," he retorted.

"It was a rhetorical answer," she replied.

"Bingo is rhetorical?"

"If I say it is, it is."

"That's not how it works," he informed her.

"Can you prove me wrong?"

"Yes."

She waited, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

He didn't make a move to speak until she had almost run out of patience. When he finally did, it was ostensibly to ask, "What?"

It took a great deal of self control not to snap at him. "You said that you could prove it."

"I can." Another pause. "But you never asked me to do actually do it."

"That's cheating," she cried disbelievingly, feeling a surge of unwanted admiration coat her tongue. Smart-ass. She didn't feel too bad about her own faux pas anymore. Now, was that a good thing or not?

"I didn't think you wanted to hear it," he told her, looking exceedingly entertained.

Izumi wondered briefly what she was doing. She had done her part as a good Samaritan, wasn't it time to go? Of course it was, but she couldn't resist firing back, "Of course I do!"

"Sorry. I'm too tired." He brushed her off like a particle of dust.

"You're not tired at all," Izumi protested with her hands on her hips.

"It's late. Of course I am."

"Nuh-uh!" She was sorely tempted to stick out her tongue.

"If I say it is, it is," he mocked.

She huffed. "That's _my_ line."

"It's mine now."

"No it isn't."

"If I say it is, it is."

"And if _I_ say it isn't, then it isn't." Izumi jabbed her thumb toward herself.

"And if - " he suddenly stopped. "What are we doing?"

"We're arguing," she replied, looking at him oddly.

"Kanbura's still here," he pointed out, as if just discovering the unconscious boy for the first time.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They stared at Mr. Starchy-Orange-with-Yellow-and-Red.

"I think he's very, very drunk," Izumi said solemnly, fighting the urge to laugh. It would have been rude, and she had already been rude enough.

"You _think?_" the other student asked disbelievingly, brushing his dark hair back.

"He's got the breath," she replied, wrinkling her nose in memory.

He actually winced in sympathy at that. "How long has he been like this?"

"You mean, drunk?"

"No, no, he's been drunk since noon. I saw him. How long has he been unconscious?"

Izumi decided not to comment that drinking from noon to midnight was not a good idea. From the looks of it, she'd be preaching to the choir. "I don't know."

He looked at her, scrutinizing her appearance just like she had been doing to him only moments ago. She was suddenly very conscious of the frayed edges on her clothing and the trails of sweat in her hair. Hopefully, he wasn't in the mood to judge and criticize.

Apparently, he wasn't, because his next move was to bend down and heave the unconscious student over his shoulder.

Izumi blinked, wondering why she didn't feel surprised at all that he was stronger than he looked. "Do you need any help with him?" she asked, fingering her phone.

He shook his head firmly. "It's fine. You should probably go back to your dorm – or wherever else you want to go. None of my business."

Well, no, it wasn't, but he _could_ have said it in a more polite way. Izumi wasn't even offended, just amused. She bit down the retort on the tip of her tongue and plastered a smile on her face. "It was nice meeting you. I'd ask for your name, but I'll probably forget it, and it's not like we're going to have some grand reunion."

"No, probably not," he replied. "And I'm horrible with names anyway."

How very convenient. Izumi watched him walk away, gripping the other student tightly with his right arm. "Bye," she called after him, casually dismissing him from her mind. The experience had only proved that she needed to be more cautious. He may not have been a gun-toting, trigger-happy mob boss, but he had been dangerous all the same.

He gave her a two-fingered salute with his free hand. "See you later, if ever."

"Yeah. If ever," she echoed, just as he turned around the corner and vanished.

She probably wouldn't see him again. More's the pity. As strange as the whole encounter had been, she _did_ like blue eyes.

Really. In a school of over six thousand, what were the chances?

It was best to forget about it, so that's exactly what she did.


	11. Forgot

FORGOT

* * *

Ever since she woke up, Izumi had been nursing the faint suspicion that something was amiss.

She looked at her agenda for forgotten homework, but it was rare to have any assignments due before a major holiday, and this time was no exception.

The digital clock on her nightstand said, very clearly, _Friday MAR 1_. Besides kendo practice, Izumi never scheduled anything on a Friday. Every other day of the week was fair game for club duties and classwork, but Fridays belonged to her and her alone. Not even Kouji was allowed to violate her weekly Sabbath. It had taken weeks for her to figure out how to get him to leave her alone, but she eventually succeeded by taking his sword hostage.

Not his shinai, mind you. He didn't care about the worn out bamboo sword that he used for practice and competition. It was a rental from a nearby dojo. To the best of her knowledge, Kouji had never actually bought himself a shinai, which didn't seem terribly practical for the captain of the kendo club – but she had long stopped questioning her significant other when it came to swords. His pride wouldn't let him waste the money on a shinai when he already owned a beautiful steel katana that would do the job _just fine_, thank you very much. It must have been expensive as hell, because the craftsmanship on its delicately curved blade was flawless. He was insanely protective of that sword, with good reason.

Izumi only learned about its existence when Kouji brought it to school on a whim. She could still remember the sensation of a perfectly balanced metal blade in her hands…hell, it was worth spending so much time around a bastard like him if he let her play with that sword every once in a while.

She shook herself from the daydream. Now was not the time to be thinking about Kouji's katana. Now was not the time to be thinking about Kouji at all, actually. With renewed purpose, she dug through her desk. She didn't have any new messages on her phone, or on her answering machine, or in her inbox, or anywhere else.

It was impossible to shake the feeling that something was _wrong_, but Izumi couldn't figure out why.

So, naturally, she ignored the niggling suspicion and went on with her day.

That is, until she opened the door and was ambushed by a faceful of pom-poms.

"Orimoto-saaaan," screamed the pom-poms.

"That's me," she said faintly, wondering if she needed to dial 110.

The pom-poms lifted and a panicked face emerged from the depths of the frilly plastic strings. Long black hair was hanging between the face and the pom-poms, probably the result of running up three flights of stairs.

Izumi blinked. "What on earth?"

"Orimoto-san, I need your help!" the strange girl cried. Her limbs latched onto Izumi's arm and started dragging.

Izumi dug her heels in, but to no avail. Whoever this girl was, she was surprisingly strong, if not strong enough to pose a threat in a real fight. Izumi _could _have braced herself against the wall and kicked the girl away, but she decided against it. Using excessive force against an inexperienced opponent wasn't good kendo, no matter what the circumstances.

They charged through the corridor and out of the dorms, where two brunette girls were waiting. All three wore the same blue and white cheerleading outfit, pom-poms and all. Escorted by the team of determined teenagers, Izumi soon found herself on a grass field, right in the middle of soccer practice.

Soccer…? She started scanning the field suspiciously, looking for a familiar face. Kanbara noticed her at the same time she noticed him. He waved her down with an easy grin and started walking toward the sidelines. "Sup, Orimoto?"

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, glaring at the gaggle of girls around her.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Why're you here?"

"Why don't you ask them?" With difficulty, she wrested her right arm free and gestured to her kidnappers.

Kanbura Takuya was happy to do just that. He slung his arm around the black-haired girl, the one who had pulled Izumi out of her room. "Hey, Mina-chan, what's going on?"

Izumi stared.

Oh. So _this_ was Mina.

The girl beamed and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. Whatever it was, it took her almost five minutes to explain. Izumi waited impatiently for Kanbura to pass the message on.

The soccer star, unfortunately, was a lot more interested in sliding his hand down the cheerleader's back. Izumi rolled her eyes and wondered if they had forgotten she was there. "So?" she interrupted quickly before they could get _too_ distracted.

Kanbura grinned at Izumi, but didn't let go of Mina. Typical. "Sorry, sorry. What was the question?"

"Why did they bring me here?" she asked slowly, trying to gauge whether Kanbura's attention was on her or on his girlfriend's cleavage.

"Oh, right!" he snapped his fingers and looked at Mina. Yeah, definitely the cleavage. "So, uh…why'd you do it, again?"

How _helpful_.

She gave her frantic kidnappers a stern look. The two brunettes looked uncomfortable and guilty. Mina, clearly the leader of the group, started to explain, "Well, you see, it's like this…"

* * *

"Tell me again how you managed to talk me into this," Izumi muttered.

Mina rearranged the ribbons in her hair. "Because you want to help us, of course!"

"Of…course." Well, not really, but Izumi didn't have to heart to tell her that.

The taller girl froze in the middle of fiddling with the knot. "You're not backing out, are you? Please please please! Today's the first game of the season, and we're missing almost five members, including all of our back-ups, and we really need more people, and you were the _best choice_!" She clasped Izumi's hands and shook them violently. "Pleeease?"

"Alright, alright," she said, just a little freaked out by the girl's outburst. "But why me?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're athletic and pretty and a total crowd pleaser."

She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, not sure how to react to the odd compliment. When did she get a reputation as a _crowd pleaser_?

Mina must have read her mind, because she said brightly, "It's true! I know soooooo many guys who have a crush on you. And, uh, no offense, but we need the publicity, and you have no idea how many people would come just to see you in a skirt."

"You get plenty of publicity without me," Izumi said, purposefully avoiding the main point of the conversation. "I've been to our home games before." Well, technically, she had only been to one…but one was more than enough. She had been too distracted by the terrible body paint that her friends smeared on her face to enjoy the game.

"But we'd get even _more_ with you," Mina pointed out. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, "Some of those guys are really hot. Want me to introduce them?"

"Those guys?"

"The ones who have a _crush_ on you," Mina explained impatiently.

Izumi grimaced. "I hope," she said faintly, "that you don't tell Kouji about any of them, hot or not."

The other girl broke into a huge grin. "Awww. Does he get jealous?"

"I guess," Izumi mumbled, because he _probably_ would.

"That's so cute!" the girl squealed. "Wow, he's just like a typical boyfriend, huh? Who woulda thought?"

Izumi looked at her blankly. "He's not my boyfriend."

"He…isn't?" Mina faltered visibly.

"No."

"Oh," the cheerleader murmured, clearly disappointed. "But…Takuya said…"

She was going to kill him later. "We're not dating," she repeated, in a voice that brooked no arguments.

"But you're always together."

"He's the captain, I'm his vice…captain."

"That's it?" Mina asked doubtfully. "I thought you were best friends at least."

Izumi blinked. Kouji? Best friend? Kouji? No freaking way. Kouji just wasn't best friend material.

Mina noticed her discomfort and quickly changed the subject. "You know, I really envy you."

"You do?" Izumi was genuinely surprised. There was only one thing about herself that she really took pride in, and that was kendo. She doubted that a girl like Mina would be jealous of _that_.

"Yeah." Mina looked almost upset for a brief moment. "People look at you after you win a match and they say that you must've worked really hard to do that and that it's so amazing that you can beat the boys. But people look at us and they don't realize that it actually takes a lot of time and energy and drilling to get ready for a game. You know, they even say that if you don't make the cheers look completely effortless, you're not doing it right."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean..." she laid her hand over her torso. "Most of the girls even wear padded bras because that's what people want to see."

Izumi stared at her, feeling oddly guilty. "Mina-san. Why did you become a cheerleader?"

The other girl gave her a brilliant, sudden smile. "Why? I mean, isn't it obvious? Because it's _fun_."

Yeah...Izumi could definitely understand that. Kendo was also a form of performance, if she thought about it. She suddenly felt much more comfortable about going out in this skimpy little uniform and helping them out with the show. There seemed to be more to it than shameless exhibition.

Mina suddenly brightened. "Oh, yeah! And there are always the cute guys, of course."

She laughed out loud. "Of course."

"Like Takuya," she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I feel so lucky, you know? He could probably get a prettier girl if he wanted, but he likes_ me_."

"I can see why," she replied, smiling indulgently.

Mina blinked.

"Mina-san," she said patiently, "There _aren't_ any prettier girls at the University. You realize this, right?"

She actually turned bright red. "No way. What about Sakura-sempai? Or Keiko-chan? Or – "

Izumi felt oddly...girly for taking part in this conversation. It wasn't a bad feeling. "I don't know about that. But, you know, I've never understood the point of ranking girls based on how pretty they are..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Glancing curiously at Izumi, Mina asked, "Have you thought about ranking the boys, though?"

Izumi shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense to me either."

"But sometimes it's really obvious. Like, Shibayama and Minamoto. Obviously, Minamoto is way hotter."

She snorted. "It's his only redeeming characteristic."

Mina's eyes glittered mischievously. "Well then, why are you on better terms with Minamoto than Shibayama?"

"I'm not," she protested, which was clearly a lie.

Mina grinned even wider. "Sooo? What do you like most about him?"

"Nothing really – I don't really like him." What was the saying - give an inch, take a mile?

"C'mon, you can tell me! You just admitted that he was hot!"

"Okay," Izumi rolled her eyes, "Yes, he's attractive. But he's not relationship material."

"Well," Mina murmured slyly, "maybe he just needs the right girl? Or maybe he's just shy?"

"He's _not_ shy."

"Ahaha, okay, okay. But maaaaaybe if you give him a push in the right direction...like, with mistletoe or something?"

"Trust me," she said dryly, "he doesn't need any excuses to do that sort of thing." Oh. Shit. Did she really just say that out loud?

Mina – along with everyone else within earshot – turned to stare at her. Then the whole room broke into excited, congratulatory chatter.

Izumi shut her mouth with a click and vowed not to open it again for the rest of the day.

* * *

From there, things spiraled even more out of control.

Oh, the game was fine. Her cheering was also fine, surprisingly enough. But then she saw Kouji and the rest of the team standing at the sidelines halfway through, and she stopped moving so suddenly that Mina had to shake her by the shoulder to see what was wrong.

Kouji, naturally, marched right up to her, completely ignoring the referee's shout of warning.

Izumi expected a lot of things when she saw him. Kouji was not the type to quickly forgive people for missing practice. She readied herself for an angry rant of epic proportions. Maybe even a few profanities thrown in for good measure. Instead, much to the shock of every other student within hearing distance, he examined Izumi's outfit and commented, "Cute."

She almost died. "What?"

"It's cute," he repeated.

Izumi couldn't stop gaping.

Kouji scratched his head slightly. "What?"

"Nowa…I…wha…"

"I don't understand," he told her impatiently.

"Totimdu," she finished intelligently.

"What?"

"I thought I misheard you," Izumi repeated, this time much more understandably.

"Misheard what?"

"Did you just use the word _cute_?"

He instantly became defensive. "What, you want me to call you ugly?"

"Well, no…"

"Then don't complain. It's a compliment. Take it or leave it."

God, she probably had a maniacal grin on her face right now. "Thank you," she replied, dogging him as they made their way to the rest of the kendo team.

Instead of saying "You're welcome," like a normal person, he gave her a semi-offended look. "You don't have to thank me. I was just stating a fact."

Izumi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

"What? It's true."

"I'm just surprised that you actually noticed my appearance."

He stopped walking and just stared at her for a while. Then he said, matter-of-factly, "Izumi, we've had _sex_."

She glared at him. "I know. What does that have to do with anything?"

A disbelieving look crossed his face. "It has everything to do with it."

"I hope you're not saying that you only slept with me because I'm pretty," Izumi said critically. Then she cringed. Calling herself pretty was just so…egotistical.

Kouji scoffed. "Trust me, that's not it."

She glanced at him.

He sighed. "Okay, maybe part of it, but not all."

"Kouji!"

"How shallow do you want me to be, Izumi?" he snapped. "I like the way you look. You've got an amazing figure. Hell, I – " he glanced around to make sure that no one was listening to them, but there were a few students who were openly pointing and whispering, so he broke off. "Never mind."

"What? You can't just leave me hanging like - "

"Izumi," he said patiently, "We have plenty of time to talk later."

That was true. He sat on the bleachers and patted the spot next to him. She sat down obediently and they watched the game silently, without even commenting sarcastically to each other. It was interesting enough, but she would have preferred a kendo competition instead. Towards the end she started dozing off from sheer exhaustion, only to be jarred awake hours later by a rocking motion.

Kouji was carrying her on his back.

And she was still wearing the cheerleading outfit.

If she had been fully awake and aware of herself, she would have been embarrassed, but she didn't think about the people watching them. At this point, it was too late to deny anything anyways. She forgot about the game, and the missing cheerleaders in the squad. She didn't give a crap about the rest of the world in general. It was just too nice to lie there, thinking about everything that had happened on her very unorthodox Friday.

"Hey," she murmured, half-asleep on his shoulder. "I still can't believe you called me cute today."

"To be honest, I can't either."

"Naturally, O Stoic One." She smiled drowsily. A strange thought suddenly struck her. "You...wouldn't mind if I became a cheerleader, right?"

"Please don't. It'd be so much harder to get people to come to practice if even the vice-captain doesn't attend."

"Stupid," she mumbled, "I wasn't talking about cheerleading for soccer."

"Then what...?"

"Well, I know it's not traditional for kendo, but maybe...?"

He tilted his head, earnestly considering the idea. "I...wouldn't ask you to do something like that," he said finally.

"No?" she was genuinely curious to hear his rationale. On a purely logical level, it would make sense to have somebody to do a little cheering for the sake of the team's morale. Everybody could always use a little more motivation to do their best at matches. Even if there was no obvious benefit, it wouldn't do any harm, would it? And Kouji certainly didn't mind the way she looked in a cheerleading uniform...

He was silent for the longest time. Just when she concluded that he was actively avoiding the question, he stopped moving and let her slide down. Then he turned around and laid his hands on her waist.

She gawked at him.

"Listen very, very closely, Miss Vice Captain," he said quietly, but commandingly. "I'm only gonna say this once."

"Okay," she said, just as quietly and seriously.

"I don't want you to be a cheerleader because I'm a selfish bastard. I'm a selfish bastard because I like the way you look in this uniform. I'm a selfish bastard because I don't want anybody else looking at you the way I do. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Now, wipe that stupid grin off your face, because I'm going to kiss you, and I don't give a shit if this appears on the campus newspaper tomorrow."

"Yes," she said, but the stupid grin that he mentioned was so stubborn that it was the first thing she saw in his bathroom mirror the next morning.


	12. Fed up

There will be some kendo terminology in this one...in general, it will be self-explanatory. The only part that might be important plotwise is the concept of four areas of the body that are worth one point each if you strike them successfully:

Kote - wrist

Men - head

Do - body

Tsuki - throat

I decided that little Tomoki needed some love. And then it got kind of out of control.

* * *

Fed Up

* * *

When Tomoki saw his old captain hanging around the kendo clubhouse he had to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

And then he pinched himself again.

It was a serious shock to his system for more than one reason. Nobody on the team – with the assumed exception of Izumi – had seen Kouji since he got out of the hospital. There had been a few attempts to arrange a group visit to his apartment, but it was quietly understood that no one was comfortable with intruding. They all knew their former captain well enough to figure that he wouldn't want them in his personal space. It was a matter of respect, and a matter of self-preservation.

Plus, Kouji had told them quite firmly _not_ to expect him at kendo practice for the rest of the year. And whatever Kouji said, Kouji did.

Or not, because he was currently in one of the practice rooms, slicing the air with the delicate, quick strikes that he had been famous for.

Tomoki leaned against the wall and watched.

Kouji didn't move like a recovering patient. He was doing this like he had been practicing as much as he always had, before the broken bones. Or, if what Izumi told them was true, as hard as he had practiced even _with_ the broken bones.

…Maybe Tomoki shouldn't be so surprised to see Kouji here after all. There was probably too much kendo in the guy for him to stay away.

"Are you going to sit there watching or do you want to spar?"

Tomoki made a sound that was embarrassingly like a squeak. He hadn't even noticed that Kouji had finished his kata. "Sorry."

Kouji finally looked at him, impatiently. "For crying out loud, answer the question. Do you want to spar?"

"But your _ribs_," Tomoki protested, wondering if his former captain even remembered that he was supposed to be resting up.

"Ribs or no ribs," Kouji replied, pointing the shinai at him authoritatively, "I can still kick your ass."

Now _that_, Tomoki didn't doubt at all. "Yes, Captain," he said, walking over to the lockers.

An odd look of wistful annoyance crossed his sempai's face. "I'm not Izumi, you know."

He flushed. "Sorry. Just...old habits die hard."

Kouji nodded shortly. It conveyed acknowledgment, not agreement.

While Tomoki geared up, tying firm knots in the cords of his bogu, the older student swung his shinai lazily a few times.

Kouji himself wasn't completely uniformed, even though he had always insisted that no one who wasn't suited up was allowed to touch a shinai on club property, but Tomoki quickly realized that it was because Kouji didn't have his equipment here anymore. At any point, he was only missing the gauntlets – not ideal, but probably not dangerous for someone as good as the former captain was.

He stood in front of his former captain solemnly and bowed.

Then he tried to strike first, because he knew perfectly well from experience that if he let Kouji build up momentum, it would be all over.

He remembered a half second too late that Kouji had never been the offensive type anyways.

"_Men_," Kouji called, bringing the bamboo pole straight down on the top of Tomoki's head, after neatly sliding away from the incoming attack.

Even with his body braced for the impact, Tomoki stumbled back a few steps at the sheer force of the blow. _Fast_. So damned fast. Yes, he remembered now, remembered what it felt like to struggle against someone who was so much better than him that it hurt his head. Breathing hard from adrenaline, he lifted his shinai again and was taken aback by how quickly Kouji blitzed him -

"_Kote._"

"_Do_."

"_Kote_."

"_Tsuki._"

"_Tsuki_."

"_Men_."

It was only after the sixth hit in a row that Tomoki avoided one – a snap of the shinai over his head that would have been another clean _men_ if he hadn't twisted out of the way, but he didn't quite manage to sidestep the whole strike. Something popped in his neck as the shinai hit him at a painful angle. His grip was sweaty and his palms felt raw from how much pressure he had been putting on his weapon in an attempt to defend himself. It wasn't like Kouji was using his full strength, either. He was just overwhelming Tomoki with pure speed, and Tomoki couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Time out!" Kouji snapped, drawing back as soon as he saw the younger student stumbling and gripping his neck.

Relieved and aching, Tomoki paused in his frantic attempts to block the wave of rapid-fire attacks. They were standing two meters apart now, just too far for Kouji to reach him with a swing.

Kouji pulled his helmet off and laid it on the floor. He also started undoing the rest of his armor. "Do you know what that was?"

"Er..."

"That was you completely underestimating me." Kouji was giving him the full force of his glare, and it was just as effective as it had always been. "Himi. When does kendo let you bend your neck to dodge?" he asked, clearly referencing Tomoki's attempted escape from his last _men_.

"Never," Tomoki replied, wincing.

"Of course, if this was a tournament, you would've prevented me from getting a point." Kouji was scowling. "But you _know_ that you shouldn't do it. If I had been hitting you any harder, your neck could have been seriously messed up. For life."

"Sorry - "

"This is not about apologizing. This is about you not doing stupid shit that will land you in a wheelchair." Kouji looked grim. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Capt – yes, Minamoto."

"Good." Kouji stepped back and looked thoughtful. "You've improved."

Tomoki grimaced. "I'm sure that you're right, but I don't feel like it. You've still got me completely beat."

Kouji actually rolled his eyes.

Tomoki stared and asked himself whether he had ever seen the epitome of dignity, Minamoto Kouji, roll his eyes like a juvenile. He had known, of course, that the senior had a personality beyond the one he used in public as the genius kendo captain, but it was still weird to see proof of it. "What?"

"Have you sparred with Izumi recently?" Kouji asked.

"Yes." And he had the bruises to show for it, too. Izumi was even faster than her fiancé, and she was also in the habit of hitting people with her bare fists if she disapproved of something.

"That's where the improvement must have come from," Kouji decided.

"...How can you tell? It feels like you've beaten me worse than last time. If that's even possible."

He looked at Tomoki with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I suppose you must not have improved _that_ much if you didn't notice..."

"Oh, great," he muttered, undoing his helmet and pulling it from his head.

"But still. You're better."

"How can you tell?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Kouji shrugged. "I was only able to hit _men_ twice."

Tomoki stared at him incredulously. "But your _ribs_ – that's not fair."

"You know, you should probably stop talking about the fact that an injured person who hasn't touched a shinai in three months mopped the floor with you. You do have a reputation to uphold, Vice Captain Himi."

Damn. Tomoki wasn't so much surprised as he was impressed. "Three months?"

"Well," Kouji murmured, "to be fair, not a day goes by that I don't think about training. You know, it's possible to improve just as much from _imagining _yourself practicing as you would from actually practicing."

The sophomore stared at him. "So you...?"

"Every day. For three months. It worked."

Tomoki groaned. Trust Minamoto Kouji to do something like that. Trust Minamoto Kouji to be _able_ to do something like that.

The older student shrugged. "It's not that much of a stretch. Kendo's mostly mental anyways," he told Tomoki. Then, a little ruefully, he added, "Though I don't blame you for not getting it. _I_ didn't understand it until I landed myself in a hospital bed for stress fractures."

Tomoki grinned at him slightly. "Captain Orimoto would be glad to hear that you've learned something from it."

"That's why she won't hear it from my mouth. And she better not hear it from yours, either." Kouji eyed him with pretended severity, but he was smirking.

"I'll try," he replied, grinning even wider. They sat down on the bench and stayed quiet for a long moment before Tomoki heard his ringtone from his backpack. "Hang on a minute."

"Not going anywhere."

"Uh-huh," he replied absently, checking the screen. _Kanbara Shinya_. God. Not now. Please. More time would have been much appreciated. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

When he opened them, he saw Kouji watching him, amused. "What's with the face?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that."

He blinked at the annoyed look on Kouji's face. "What? What did I do?"

"Izumi does it too."

"...huh?"

"So does every other girl on the planet."

Tomoki couldn't remember Kouji ever being this...anti-straightforward. He kept staring at his former captain, hoping that if he looked baffled enough, Kouji would explain himself.

And Kouji did. "You're misusing the word nothing."

"Oh." He glanced down at the cell phone again.

"Look, Himi, if you don't want to talk about it, don't. But if you keep acting like that, somebody's probably going to refer you to a therapist. And you do _not_ want to talk to the university therapists."

He paled, remembering. "Right. So. Uh."

"Still. Your choice."

He buried his face into his hands, and decided: what the hell, it was worth a shot. "When did you figure out that you liked Captain?"

Kouji grabbed the edge of the bench and drew himself up into a sitting position. "...so it's one of _those_ problems."

"Yeah," Tomoki muttered.

He looked at the younger boy, frowning. "I don't know if you should ask for relationship advice from me. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure you shouldn't."

"At least you've got a stable relationship. Nobody else on the team does."

Kouji snorted. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I _am_ your best shot. Which is completely pathetic, by the way." He paused. "Guess you don't want to talk to Izumi about it?"

"She's...a..." Well, simply put, Izumi was a _she_, and that was sort of the problem.

"Okay. Takuya? He has a steady girlfriend, but...might not be helpful."

"_No_," he said in a strangled voice. He cleared his throat, and said, more normally, "No."

Kouji stared at him. "Alright then."

"So, um... when did you know that you liked her?"

Kouji lay back down again. "I don't remember. Two weeks in? Three weeks?"

He choked. "Right after you met her?"

"No, no. We met when – well, that's irrelevant. I only got interested in her after our second meeting. Wait, let me think." He started mouthing something. It seemed like calculations of some sort. "On second thought, it was less than two weeks."

"Uh. Okay." Tomoki didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. "So it was, what, love at first sight? That kind of freaks me out. Because it's you."

Kouji choked. "That's - not funny, Himi. It wasn't that serious."

Tomoki flushed. "So when you say you were _interested_, you mean..."

Even though he was clearly uncomfortable with the subject himself, Kouji had the gall to smirk at him knowingly. "Sometimes I forget," he said dryly, "that you're two years younger than me."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean..."

"It means that you're not as comfortable with the concept of hooking up as I am."

His jaw dropped. "_What?_"

"Right," Kouji continued, examining his hands absently. "We had that sort of relationship until we started going out officially. Then we broke up."

"You did? Wait, before that! What do you mean, comfortable with hooking up?"

Kouji looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he was bending backwards, so his eyebrows were actually pointing down. "Don't tell me you've never done it."

He dropped his face into his hands. What had he been thinking, talking about this with Minamoto Kouji, of all people?

"You haven't," his former captain said, disbelievingly. "Good god. That's a completely different problem. I can't help you with that, you know."

"I know!" he burst out, redder than a tomato. Then, more quietly, he added, "I can't believe that _you_ have. Hooked up with people, I mean."

"That," Kouji said, with a surprising amount of insight, "is because you've never seen me without Izumi."

"...Oh," Tomoki said. That made sense, but it didn't really help him solve his own problems. He coughed. "So, I guess a better question is, when did you realize that you wanted something more permanent?"

A pause. "I don't know. It was slow and gradual."

"Okay." He sighed. Well, that didn't apply to his situation at all...Kanbara Shinya didn't _do_ slow and gradual. Nobody in that family did.

"You know, you're probably overthinking this. The best thing to do is be honest," Kouji told him. "Or so people tell me. Frankly, I think honesty is overrated, but I'm no relationship expert..."

"Of course not. I don't think you're capable of a normal relationship," he told his sempai bluntly. He really couldn't believe that he was talking to his former _kendo captain_ like this. The side effect of having awkward conversations, he supposed, was that normal dynamics were thrown completely out of whack.

"I am," Kouji said, and then he looked away.

"You are?" Tomoki stared at him. "You mean, normal by your standards?"

"I mean, normal by everyone else's standards. Izumi is...well, she's kind of an exception to a lot of things." Kouji's lips twitched and his eyes looked just a bit less sharp than they normally did.

Tomoki didn't know how to deal with this. He really didn't. He could barely keep his own life straight, much less absorb everything he was learning about the most unexpected person ever. "So, wait. Wait. You've had...other relationships."

"Hmm."

"Serious ones?"

"I guess you could say that."

"And they were normal."

"As far as I'm aware of."

"I can't imagine that."

"Then don't."

Tomoki sighed heavily. "This isn't helping. At all."

"Maybe the university therapists - "

"No."

"Alright."

Another ringtone. It wasn't Tomoki's. He glanced at Kouji, who stared at his bag and sighed. "Let me check who that is. If it's Izumi, you're going to have to excuse me."

"Okay," Tomoki said, wondering if he was hoping that Kouji _would_ have to go. But now that he thought about it, talking to Kouji hadn't really been as awkward as he was expecting...

"What do you want, Takuya," Kouji said into the phone, and Tomoki jumped nervously. A moment later, he forced himself to calm down, because it was probably completely unrelated to him. Kouji listened for a minute or so, before sighing heavily and saying, "Fine, in an hour."

"You have to go?" Tomoki asked, rubbing his eyes.

"At some point. He wants something, wouldn't tell me what." He shifted and shrugged awkwardly against the bench. "You want...to ask anything else?"

"Uh." He thought about it. "No. Don't think so."

"Alright." Kouji yawned. "Hope that helped."

"Don't know if it did," he replied.

"...Himi, I'm perfectly aware that my own relationship is probably nothing to aspire to – "

"Actually," Tomoki interrupted, "it's better than most I've seen. A lot more, uh, equal? Is that the right word?"

"If by equal you mean that we're equally dysfunctional."

"Well, that too."

"That _too_? What else is equal?"

Tomoki shrugged. "Everything. The way you treat each other with respect. There's a lot of respect between you two."

Kouji cracked one eye open. "...there's also a lot of fighting. And instability. And for the longest time, we didn't know what to call ourselves."

"But that goes back to the equal thing. Whatever. I doubt I'll find myself a relationship like that anytime soon, so it's a moot point."

Kouji made a faint sound of agreement. "True. Wrong gender, for one."

"Yeah," he agreed absently. Then he realized what Kouji had said, and there was dead, dead silence. And a moment of panic. More than a moment, actually. He nearly started hyperventilating. When he found his voice again, he only managed to rasp, "You _know_?"

"What?"

"You _know_ that I'm not attracted to girls?"

Kouji sat up again and stared at him in the eye. "Himi," he said, rather pityingly, "you thought it was a secret?"

* * *

TBC? Yes? [gets shot by muse]

As you can see, the plot is not yet resolved...the continuation will be posted after this.


	13. Felt up

At long last, the edited form of this second part is here!

I'm sorry for the wait, guys. I had it mostly done when I posted the first half, but then all these new ideas came to me and I just kept...adding...to...it.

Also? All attitudes in the story belong to the characters. This is the one chapter that I actually have to make this disclaimer for.

So, yeah. Really long. Enjoy, though!

* * *

Felt Up

* * *

Now, to be fair, Tomoki had always known that this day would come.

Surely it would have taken a miracle to make it through college without a single person discovering that he was kind of...sort of...very much gay, and Tomoki didn't believe in miracles. No, he was a realist, so he believed in nosy teammates and gossipy teenagers and the power of the grapevine. Not miracles. Never miracles.

He also knew that some people just had a knack for figuring out who was gay and who was straight and who was somewhere in between. He just never thought that Minamoto Kouji would turn out to be one of those people.

Well, before today, he wouldn't have thought that his old kendo caption was capable of doling out love advice, either. Despite the fact that they had known each other for two years, this was probably the longest non-kendo related conversation he had ever had with Kouji. It was kind of...nice.

If they had met under different circumstances, maybe they would have been friends - _normal_ friends, the kind that hung out on the weekends and played videogames. It was a weird thought, but a small part of him wondered what that would have been like. Then again, if they had been normal friends, he probably would have been subjected to Kouji-style love advice way back in freshman year when he had a crush on Akiyama Ryo...which would have ended badly for everyone involved.

...Still. He was willing to take what help he could get, at this point.

Yes, Tomoki was a realist. He couldn't just ignore the quickly accumulating evidence that, apparently, people knew a _lot_ more about him than he thought they did. Was he really that obvious? It wasn't like he crossdressed or anything... Unbidden, the image of himself prancing around in heels and a dress invaded his mind. He shuddered and scrambled for something, anything to distract himself.

Kouji waved his hand in front of Tomoki's face, jarring him out of his semi-panicked catatonia. "You still with me, Himi?"

"Yes," he managed, weakly.

Kouji leaned back with a satisfied look on his face. "Good. Izumi would kill me if I broke you."

Wait. _Izumi_. Tomoki swallowed hard. He had never known Kouji and Izumi to keep secrets from each other, with the obvious exception of the injuries that landed the former in the hospital. So, if Kouji knew..."Captain knows too," he realized out loud.

Kouji nodded and added, oh-so-helpfully, "So does Mokuzai, I think, but who knows with that guy..."

"Does Junpei? Toru? And what about - "

"You'd have to ask Izumi," Kouji commented. "She knows them a lot better than I do."

"Does..." he closed his eyes and wanted the Earth to swallow him.

"I'm pretty sure that Takuya is completely oblivious, though," Kouji muttered, seemingly to himself. Tomoki exhaled slowly, but his relief was short-lived, because his former captain promptly added, "Unless his little brother told him."

_Shinya_. Oh god. Oh_ shit_. "His little brother?"

"Yes. You met him, remember? At the first soccer match this year."

Of course Tomoki remembered. It was hard to forget a meeting like that. His cheeks turned bright red.

Tomoki had always known that he was reasonably...attractive...in a teddy bear-ish sort of way. Puberty had not deemed it a priority to fix his baby cheeks, or his dimples, or his short stature. He was nearly twenty one years old and random little ladies were still pinching his cheeks and cooing over him.

Unfortunately for him, being labeled as the "cute one" meant that everybody treated him like a little kid. All. The. Time. He was so damn used to it that he never expected anything else. But _Shinya_...well.

Shinya really knew how to make a first impression. Tomoki wasn't sure where the guy learned so many pick-up lines (or _why_ he would ever need them) or how it was possible to be so sweet yet so arrogant at the same time (though Takuya claimed that it was all an act) or why the hell anyone would prefer friendly butt slaps over handshakes (or maybe that was just with Tomoki...) but he did know this: Shinya was absolutely, aggravatingly impossible to hate.

Which was probably why Tomoki didn't mind hanging out with him. Which was probably why he accepted Shinya's invitation to come over for dinner last Saturday night. Which was probably why he ended up sleeping over. Which was probably why Shinya decided to break out the nice liquor. Which was probably why a drunk Shinya ended up French kissing him against the wall and - yeah.

Kouji snickered. "Good memories?"

"No! Not good! Not at all!" he waved his hands a little too wildly.

"Relax. You'll learn to like him eventually. He's a little flaky but he's a good kid."

Tomoki had to bite down on the urge to say _I know_. Instead, he asked, "Don't you usually hate flaky people?"

"Hate is too strong. I strongly dislike them, yes...though Shinya's a bit of an exception. I've learned to deal with him, as long as he tones down the flirting."

Tomoki stared at him, mind going blank. "He flirts with you? I didn't - does he really?"

"Well, yes. You seriously didn't notice? I'd get your eyes checked, Himi."

"That's not the point," Tomoki protested, not sure why the idea of Shinya flirting with his former captain made him feel so uncomfortable. Shinya flirted with pretty much everybody. It was just something he did. Tomoki didn't usually make friends with people like that, but Shinya was incredibly considerate when he wanted to be. He never abandoned Tomoki for a casual hookup when they went somewhere together, and that meant a lot. "I mean, you're engaged...and you're _straight_, so he should just leave you alone, because it's not going to do him much good - "

Kouji choked. He turned himself over so that he was on his stomach and held his head over the bench, trembling with laughter. "And - and what makes you think that?" he wheezed.

"What makes me think what?"

"That I'm straight?"

It was a good thing that Tomoki was sitting down, because he was pretty sure that he would have fallen over otherwise. "You're...not?" he asked faintly.

"I'm about as straight as the straightest line that my girlfriend can draw," Kouji replied, which was only ambiguous if you didn't know Izumi at all.

"With or without a ruler?" Tomoki asked weakly, which was a _stupid question_, but he couldn't really think of a better response at the moment.

Kouji gave him a lopsided smirk. "Believe me, it doesn't matter."

Tomoki waited patiently for his brain to stop imitating a ball of mochi that had been pounded into submission. In the meantime, he made a weak attempt to change the subject, "You shouldn't make fun of her like that. She's not _that_ bad at drawing."

"Of course not," Kouji said impatiently. "Being able to draw a straight line has nothing to do with artistic ability. It has to do with having a steady hand."

"But she's so good at kendo," Tomoki frowned. "How can she do _tsuba-zeriai _without a steady hand?"

"She compensates by locking in her wrists and elbows."

"But wouldn't that make it harder to escape?"

"Well, yes." Kouji shrugged. "Her form isn't perfect. Neither is mine. If you have a good instinct, it's easier to cover your weaknesses."

"Oh." He couldn't help but speculate about all the ways he could use his newly acquired knowledge the next time he sparred with Izumi. He was tired of the one-sided sparring matches. He only felt like he was getting somewhere with his training when she went easy on him. Something had to give.

He didn't get far in his planning, though, because Kouji interrupted him by hitting him on the head. "Don't get too confident," the former captain said sharply. "_Your_ hands aren't steady either. We even considered not giving you the vice captaincy because of it."

Tomoki looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Oh," he murmured again, despondently. He knew better than to expect wholehearted compliments from his former captain, but it still stung a little when Kouji only seemed to have criticism for him. Logically, Tomoki understood that his sempai wouldn't have bothered to teach him if he didn't have potential. Really. He _understood_. But...it was hard to stay optimistic and confident when Kouji kept dressing him down like a frustrated babysitter.

Kouji hit him again.

"Ow!"

"You idiot, that's not what I meant." Kouji was rolling his eyes. "It's bad for the entire team if the captain and the vice captain have the same weakness. You were a fine candidate for vice captain otherwise."

"Oh." He couldn't stop himself from grinning, but he hid it behind his hand. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me, it's the truth," Kouji countered, gazing up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Didn't you ever wonder why Izumi and I improved so much over the past two years?"

"Not really. You've always seemed kind of inhuman," Tomoki replied sheepishly.

Kouji snorted. "Hardly. I'm just as human as anyone else - I'm just a lot more determined...and lucky, I suppose. You really haven't noticed how much Izumi and I have improved?"

"Not really, no. Too busy getting my ass kicked by you - by both of you."

"Fair enough," Kouji conceded, with a tone of resignation. "Let me tell you something, then. Izumi and I make good sparring partners because I suck at what she does well, and vice versa. We force each other to cover our weak spots."

"I already knew that," Tomoki said softly, with a tiny grin.

"Did you?" Kouji tapped his fingers against the bench lightly. "Do you stalk us or something?"

"No," he dead-panned, "I don't _have_ to stalk you. That's how much you fight."

"Oh, you haven't seen anything worth seeing." Kouji had the trace of a smirk on his face. "We only fight seriously when we're at home."

"...Really?" Tomoki asked blankly, thinking back to all the times he and the rest of the team found smashed lockers and upended benches after a Kouji-Izumi episode.

Kouji shrugged. "...broken glass is sharp, and that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

"Oh," Tomoki said, horrified.

His former captain rolled his eyes. "Relax. It might not look like it, but we know how to avoid seriously hurting each other."

"Keep saying that," Tomoki muttered, "and someday you'll kill each other."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Tomoki grinned at him.

Kouji opened his eyes and frowned minutely. "If you have something to say, say it," he said flatly. "The worst I can do is leave you to flounder through this...personal problem of yours."

"Not really," Tomoki mumbled, "the worst you can do is beat me up."

"That shouldn't even scare you anymore. I've beaten you up dozens of times."

"But that doesn't mean - " The sophomore shook his head. "Never mind."

"Why never mind?"

"Just...never mind."

"And why are we still talking about me?" Kouji asked, raising an eyebrow. "You wanted help on _your _life, right?"

Oh. Right. Tomoki took a deep breath. "Yeah. So. Um. I guess I just..."

"Yes?" he prodded impatiently.

"...Um..."

"Would you prefer it if I kept talking about myself?" Kouji offered, in an uncharacteristically patient voice.

"Yes," he blurted out quickly. "Not that - not that I'm trying to change the subject or anything, sempai. It's just that you keep answering questions that I didn't even know I had. And it's...less embarrassing this way."

"Oh. Alright then." Kouji looked like he had been caught off guard. After thinking for a moment, he looked at Tomoki seriously and asked, "Do you want to know how I figured out that I was bisexual?"

Tomoki stared at him. "Are you actually willing to tell me?" he asked, stunned and relieved that Kouji was broaching the subject himself instead of waiting for a direct question.

"It's an open secret, so yes, I am."

"Oh." He nodded. "Yes. That'd be...nice."

"Fine, then." Kouji shifted around until he was flat on the bench again. "It's not a complicated story. I've _always_ been attracted to other guys. The locker room was...kind of an eye-opener," he muttered.

"I know," Tomoki said, with genuine understanding.

"Yes," Kouji replied dryly, "You probably do." He shrugged. "I spent a year or so trying to figure out how to tell my parents - "

"God, I _know_," Tomoki said, more forcefully, closing his eyes. Telling the family had been a nightmare for him. A nightmare involving flavored condoms.

" - although Kouichi eventually did it for me."

Tomoki stared at him and made a sympathetic noise. It had only taken a few weeks to rob him of the illusion that Kouichi was a harmless nice guy - nice, yes, harmless, no. He could only imagine what Kouichi had done to bring his twin out of the closet. "...I'm sorry."

"So am I," Kouji replied wryly. "Anyways, I went through the first few years of high school without even paying attention to girls. Well, obviously, I _looked_ at them sometimes, but I don't remember being attracted to them...at least not until senior year. Then they changed the fucking cheerleading outfits and..." he shrugged a little helplessly.

Tomoki slowly began to grin. "The cheerleading outfits. Right."

"Don't look at me like that, Himi. At least _I_ don't have a thing for rainbow-vomit-colored nooses."

"...excuse me?"

"Scarves, Himi."

"...you call them rainbow-vomit-colored nooses?"

"It's a long story - and irrelevant. The point is, you've got a thing for them."

The half-formed grin stayed, but he couldn't keep the embarassment out of his voice because he could only imagine how Kouji found out about _that_. None of the possible scenarios he imagined seemed plausible. "I do _not_ have a thing for scarves."

"No," Kouji looked up at the ceiling innocently, "not all of them. Just the ones that aren't plaid."

Tomoki groaned in defeat and tried to rub down his blush. "How the hell do you know these things?"

"Himi," Kouji said flatly, "you're not nearly as subtle as you think you are."

"Clearly."

"Maybe you should learn to stare more politely."

"Clearly."

"Also, you cringe every time Mokuzai wears his plaid shirts. Or his one pair of plaid shorts."

Tomoki stared at him. "And you've noticed this?"

"It's hard not to. Plaid looks terrible on him. Didn't take long to figure out why you always look so horrified to see him on plaid-days."

"So it's not just me!" Tomoki brightened slightly, burying the feeling of mortification.

"He ruined plaid for _all of us_ - so no."

"...This conversation has gone to a very strange place, sempai," he said uncertainly.

Kouji looked at him wryly. "From my perspective, this is an _improvement_ from what we were talking about before."

"How on earth is this supposed to be improvement?"

"I got you to stop thinking about the possibility of Izumi murdering me - or vice versa," Kouji said wryly.

"Wait," Tomoki frowned, "now I'm thinking about it again."

"Then let's pretend I didn't say anything."

"No, no, seriously...I'm actually a little worried now. Please don't kill each other. _Please?_"

"Of course not. It'd be hard to find another girl like her."

"Well, yeah, but that's not a good reason - no, never mind. Whatever works, sempai." Tomoki paused. "Out of curiosity, is she anything like your last girlfriend?"

"No comparison," came the reply, "seeing as I've never _had_ any other girlfriends."

Oh. _Oh_. Tomoki opened and closed his mouth several times before licking his dry lips thoughtfully. "Really?"

"Why does that surprise you?" Kouji asked, eyebrows raised.

Tomoki frowned. "I'm not surprised. I was just wondering."

"No," Kouji scoffed, "you were _not_ just wondering. What's gotten into your head now?"

"Nothing really - " he shrunk back at Kouji's glare. "Okay, okay, fine. Does that mean you only dated guys in high school?"

"Depends on your definition of _dating_," Kouji replied slowly, "but yes, I guess so."

"But now you're dating a girl..."

"Unless you share my theory that Izumi is secretly a hermaphrodite."

"What?"

"Never mind. What were you going to say?"

"...are you still attracted to other people? Or to guys in general?"

There was a long, drawn-out silence before Kouji sat up and clapped his hands firmly on Tomoki's shoulders. "Himi. Are you suggesting that I've _outgrown_ my attraction to the same sex?" he asked incredulously.

"Uh - "

"You were. Fuck, you _were_."

Tomoki flushed and mumbled weakly, "Hey, it was just a stupid thought..."

"Damn straight!" Kouji shook him hard. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I don't know! You just made me think, that's all." Tomoki scowled glumly. "I mean, I have zero experience with this sort of thing, maybe I just haven't met the right girl - "

"I doubt it," Kouji cut in.

Tomoki glared at him. "Why?" he asked, hardly believing his own defiance. "That's what happened to _you._"

"No, it isn't," he snapped, "because I knew that I was attracted to girls even _before_ I met Izumi."

"Well, fine, maybe I'm _not_ like you...but that doesn't change the fact that I might end up with a girl."

Kouji looked at him with an unreadable look on his face. "...obviously," he said.

"So maybe I'm not gay after all," Tomoki said with a sigh.

"I suppose that you _could_ be bi." Kouji said slowly, with a hint of skepticism.

"No, I mean...maybe I'm not even into guys."

Kouji rubbed his forehead. "Himi, how the hell are you so bad at this?"

"Hey!" Tomoki wrinkled his nose. "...bad at what?"

"At figuring out what - or _who_ - turns you on."

"Oh." Tomoki was pretty sure that his face looked like it had been dumped into a vat of cherry syrup.

Kouji seemed puzzled at his embarrassment. "Look, Himi, _you're_ the one who got me started on this topic, so stop blushing every time I mention sex."

"It's not that! I'm fine with talking about sex!"

Kouji looked at him pointedly.

"...maybe not _fine_," he admitted grudgingly. "But it's not...it's not the topic that bothers me. I can talk about sex with _other_ people."

"So it's just me?" Kouji looked amused.

"...yes."

"You wouldn't even mind having a casual conversation about sex with this guy of yours?"

"No!" His blush was sudden and violent. "I mean, yes! I mean, I _do_ mind!"

"So it's not just me," he concluded, seemingly satisfied.

"Can we please not talk about this?" he wailed.

Kouji looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm a little concerned that your face might get stuck that color," he commented. "So, yes, we can talk about something else."

"Thank you," he breathed between the narrow slits of his fingers as he held his face in his hands.

"Out of curiosity, though, why do you feel uncomfortable when it's me talking about sex?"

"Because it's like getting the _talk_ from my parents," he blurted out, groaning.

"They had sex to have you."

"_I am going to stop thinking now._"

"That's a good plan. Now you just have to apply that tactic to other parts of your life."

"...you want me to just stop thinking?"

Kouji stared at him and tilted his head. There was a bemused not-smile on his face. "It would make things easier."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Didn't I tell you to _stop_ thinking?"

"I mean - ugh! It's just a bad idea, okay? If I stop thinking, I'm going to do something really stupid." A pause. "Again."

"Well, when one type of stupidity fails you, you should try another."

"That's not persuasive at all, sempai."

"Look, Himi. You overthink things. That's just what you do. It's not a bad thing - usually it's better than the alternative - but you need to _move on_ and get rid of your biggest problem before you start back-tracking and overanalyzing yourself into oblivion, okay?"

"My biggest problem?" Tomoki asked blankly.

"The fact that you've never hooked up with someone before," the senior replied flatly.

Tomoki choked. "I...I'm not sure that I want to fix that just yet, sempai."

Kouji looked at him blankly before nodding. "I stand corrected. Your biggest problem is the fact that you don't _want_ to hook up with someone."

"I don't want to sleep with somebody just for the sake of sleeping with somebody," he said, his voice cracking just the slightest.

"I don't see why. Izumi and I started out that way. Relationships are only complicated if you make them complicated."

Tomoki eyed him pointedly, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of hookups. "Does that mean you made _your_ relationship complicated on purpose?"

"Well..." he shrugged, "we share the blame for that one."

"Oh." Tomoki wasn't sure what to say to that.

"No, wait. You can also blame kendo. I doubt that we'd be together if it weren't for kendo."

"That's kind of an awful thing to say," Tomoki said, frowning.

"Not really. People usually hook up for more superficial reasons."

"But it's a horrible reason to marry somebody."

"Well, obviously. I'm not marrying her because she has a beautiful _tsuki_ technique, I'm marrying her because she's put up with me for so long," he said lightly, with a teasing glint in his eyes. "It goes the other way, too. I knew what I was getting into when I popped the question. The first time I asked her out on a date, on the other hand..."

Tomoki looked at him with genuine curiosity. "Bad first date?"

"No. It was too good. Set us up for disappointment." He shrugged half-heartedly. "Now that I know all of her flaws, it's easier to live with them."

"...uh, that...sempai? That's still a horrible reason to marry someone."

"Relationships are inherently unreasonable."

Tomoki stared at him. "Well, yeah, but - "

"So when it works, don't question it."

Oh. Somewhere along the way, Kouji had stopped talking about himself and started giving advice again. Tomoki paused and nodded quietly. "Okay."

"Does that help? If it doesn't, I really don't know what to tell you."

"Yes - "

"No, wait, I _do_ know what to tell you. Go hook up with him. Whoever he is."

Tomoki groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Please, _please_ don't - "

"I don't understand why you have such a problem with the idea."

"Because I don't know what I want and I don't like leading people on and sleeping with someone is just asking for trouble when - "

"Hooking up is called hooking up for a reason, Himi. You hook up and then you let go."

"But I don't know if I wanna do _that_ either," he mumbled.

Kouji stared at him. "Do you love him?" he asked bluntly.

Tomoki gaped at him. "That – "

"Yes or no, Himi. "

"That came from nowhere! You don't just ask people that!"

"Doesn't matter. Shouldn't you already know the answer?"

"But...that's...I mean, think about it! If I were to ask you right now, _How do you feel about Izumi_, what would you say?"

Kouji looked at him blankly. "That's easy. I'm in love with her."

Oh. Tomoki stared. Oh. Well. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Seriously," Kouji muttered. "Maybe you should just tell me who it is. That might help."

"Well...er..."

"No?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Your choice." Kouji stood up. "It's been half an hour, I should probably start heading back."

"Okay," he said, before adding, "Thank you, Captain."

"I'm not your captain anymore."

Tomoki laughed, suddenly realizing that it _didn't matter - _because if Kouji was trying to convince him that he was any less of a mentor now that he was no longer an official member of the team, he was failing miserably. "No, it's fine," Tomoki gave him a bright, sunny grin, feeling lighter than he had in days. "Thank you. Captain."

Kouji stared at him, then he turned away - but there was a gentle quirk on one side of his mouth. "Take care of yourself, kid. Break a leg, not your neck."

"I'd rather not break anything," Tomoki said pointedly.

"At this rate you'll break both when you stumble out of the closet," Kouji replied.

Tomoki looked up with a mock frown. "It would be your fault - can I sue for damages?"

"No," Kouji replied, smirking, "so good luck." His phone buzzed gently and he sighed. "That's my cue -"

"Minamoto Kouji, where are you?!" shouted a voice in the distance, some ways from the locker room.

"I stand corrected." Kouji got to his feet and headed for the exit. "_That's_ my cue."

"Yeah - "

The door popped open so fast that Kouji had to jump back to avoid being hit. Izumi stood in the doorway, one hand out from pushing it open, and the other resting on her hip. "There you are! Why didn't you answer me? I was yelling for you."

"Excuse me if I didn't want to waste my breath on you," he replied serenely, stepping back to let her in.

"Love you too," she said, just as calmly.

Tomoki grinned slightly at her. "Captain."

"He~llo, Tomoki!" She swung around to look at him with a positively devilish gleam in her eyes. He gulped.

"Er...yes?"

"Fancy meeting you here," she grinned knowingly.

"Yeah, fancy that," he said, giving her his best innocent look, though he knew it was probably futile. She had this way of seeing right through him. "We were just talking."

"Talking?" she repeated.

"Talking."

"Talking!" She threw her arms around Kouji, laughing. "I never thought this day would come! The great Minamoto Kouji, socializing willingly? What has the world come to?"

"Clearly we need to warn everyone that the apocalypse is coming," Kouji deadpanned.

"Why yes, yes we do, but before that - did you get Takuya's call? We should probably leave - "

"Yeah, okay," Kouji muttered, giving Tomoki an apologetic look.

" - because there's a shit ton of people looking for you, and the clubhouse is way too small for this," she finished, giving them both a brilliant, mischievous grin.

Tomoki felt a little vindicated to see that Kouji was just as baffled and wary as he was. They both stared at her suspiciously.

Izumi huffed. "Stop looking at me like that, this wasn't even my idea."

Kouji snorted. "Maybe not, but your enthusiasm is worrying."

"Is it my fault that you're a paranoid bastard? Don't answer that. Just come with me!" Then she was dragging them both by their shirt collars and pulling them towards the freshmen dorms, clearly not giving them a choice in the matter.

"Wait, why are you taking _me_?" Tomoki yelped, struggling. Her grip was iron.

"Because you're involved!" she called back, just before they rounded the corner and came face to face with a certain startled soccer captain.

"Takuya," Kouji said, and then he suddenly straightened and stared at Tomoki, like he was starting to piece something together.

"Takuya," Tomoki said weakly, suddenly feeling like he was at the center of a great cosmic joke.

"Takuya!" Izumi said, beaming at him.

"_Takuya_!" shouted a few voices behind him, in unison. Kouichi appeared from the door of the dorm building, followed by Mokuzai...and Shinya. The latter promptly stumbled on the last step and landed gracelessly in a half-crouch when he spotted Tomoki.

Tomoki wasn't doing too great himself, as Kouji oh-so-tactfully pointed out, "Himi, your face looks like one of those cherries that they put on ice cream sundaes."

"They're called Maraschino cherries, Kouji," Izumi said, grinning.

"Whatever. That's what he looks like."

"You're right. You know, while we're on the topic of ice cream sundaes, we should get him something sweet to celebrate." She turned up the wickedness in her smile until it almost looked like cackling.

Kouichi blinked. "Did I miss something? What are we celebrating?"

"Tomoki's finally out of the closet!" she said cheerfully, to Tomoki's wide-eyed horror.

"He was in the closet?" Kouichi asked, blankly.

"Let's just say that only he could see the closet, and congratulate him for getting out," Izumi replied, grinning slightly. "C'mere." She gave Tomoki a hug with one arm, holding onto her fiance with the other.

"Welcome back from your imaginary closet," Kouichi told him.

Then they all looked at him expectantly. He opened his mouth and closed it again, like a gaping fish.

Kouji patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "Say _thank you_, Himi."

"Thank you," he parroted, to the cheers of the rest of the group.

"But where should we goooo?" Izumi leaned on her fiance slyly.

"There's a good ice cream place three blocks over," Kouji said evenly, as he glanced meaningfully from Tomoki to Shinya. Neither would quite meet his eyes.

Izumi nudged him. "No way! The one further north is way better."

"But there's not enough room in the car to take everyone," Kouichi pointed out, grinning broadly.

"I'm going! _I_'m the one who knows where it is!" Izumi chirped.

"I'm going. I need to watch her to make sure she doesn't eat the entire stock," Kouji added.

"It's my car," Kouichi said simply. "Obviously I'm going."

Takuya scowled. "Hey, I'm the one who got everybody together today - I should get a reward for that. I'm definitely going."

Mokuzai shrugged. "I'm just going because I want to go."

Everyone else nodded solemnly.

"Hey, Shinya, watch over him, okay? We're going to go get the car." Izumi bounced on her feet. "We'll get you something too, don't worry!" And just like that, they drifted off in the direction of the parking lot, leaving Tomoki and Shinya there.

The two of them must have stood there in silence for at least five long, terrible, awkward minutes before they both started talking at once.

"Shinya - "

"Tomoki - "

A pause.

"Sorry," they said, at the same time. Then they looked at each other, startled.

"Wait," Shinya said, "Why are _you_ apologizing?"

"Because I was avoiding you," he said, blinking. "And that's rude."

"But I was the one who...and somehow you think that _you_'re the rude one?"

"I was avoiding you because I didn't know what to do, and that's not fair to you."

"Oh my god," Shinya said, looking dazed. "You're like...did your parents send you to etiquette class when you were younger or something?"

"Well...yes?"

"...that explains so much." Shinya muttered. Then he jerked his head up and made wild gestures with his hands, "That's not what I meant to say! I mean, it _is_ what I meant to say, but I didn't mean to say it like that, and - oh, god, I am _so sorry, _I have no idea what's wrong with me. And I'm so sorry for being such a stupid drunk, I didn't mean to do that either - I mean, I meant to, but - "

Tomoki looked at him and really couldn't think of a single thing to say to that.

Shinya's shoulders slumped. "I think I'm just going to shut up now."

"That would be nice," Tomoki said, trying to will away his blush.

Shinya winced.

Oh. Tomoki mentally hit himself for that. That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it? What was he supposed to do now? He frowned, trying to think of a way to make it sound better, but all he could remember was Kouji saying _Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking._

Stupid captains and their stupid smugness and - fine. Wasn't like he had any better ideas.

"Shinya," he said quietly, walking up to the freshman hesitantly. "You're a really, really good friend - "

"Thanks, Tomoki," Shinya said, sighing heavily.

"- and I like you a lot - "

Shinya was trying to stare a hole through the ground. "Yeah, so do I."

" - and it wasn't that bad - "

"Look," Shinya glanced upwards with a slight scowl. "I know that you're a nice guy and this probably goes against your moral code or something, but just - punch me, okay? Next time, when I do something stupid like that, just punch me."

"Would you stop fucking interrupting me, _please_?" Tomoki snapped, surprising even himself. He usually tried his best not to swear at all - which of course made it even more impressive when he did.

"...Okay," Shinya said, wide-eyed.

"Okay," Tomoki sucked in a breath. "Look, I like you - and obviously you like me, unless I've completely misunderstood something here - so we're going up to your room, and I'm going to order pizza with everything but mushrooms, and we're going to finish the scary movie that got interrupted when you kissed me, and then I'm going to sleep over, and if you want to kiss me while we're doing those things, I've got _no problems with it_ - okay?"

"Wow," Shinya said, faintly. "Wow. I mean. Okay. That'd be pretty fucking awesome. Yeah. Let's do that."

Tomoki cleared his throat. "And next time, you don't have to apologize. Just...if you want to kiss me, please don't do it when you're drunk."

Shinya gaped at him. "Oh my god."

"What?" he asked, feeling rather self-conscious.

"You sound exactly like Kouji." He cleared his throat and imitated the former kendo captain's voice more or less accurately, "_Please don't kiss me when you're drunk._"

Tomoki was completely horrified by the comparison and even more horrified by the implication that _Shinya might have fucking kissed Kouji at some point,_ but then Shinya laughed and leaned forward, brushing their foreheads and noses and cheeks and lips together. It was a good deal more pleasant for Tomoki this time around, now that he wasn't pressed to a wall shivering in his pajama bottoms and no shirt.

"It's okay," the younger Kanbara said, cheekily. "It's not a bad thing."

Tomoki shook his head rapidly. "No," he choked out, "I'm _nothing_ like Captain."

"Why d'you still call him Captain?" Shinya asked, baffled. "Didn't he quit?"

"He's still my captain," Tomoki muttered. "It's complicated."

"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah." Tomoki swallowed hard and was just about to ask about the kiss thing, but then he heard the car horn and saw Kouichi's black car sliding up to the curb. He was pretty grateful for the interruption, in retrospect.

"We have ice cream!" Kouichi announced, rolling down the window. "Hang on, I'm dropping you guys off so I can park. Wait for me, okay?"

"No problem," Kouji said, offering a container to Tomoki.

He popped it open and grinned. Chocolate.

Then Izumi took out a can of whipped cream from her bag and offered it to him. "Want some?"

"...Why do you have that in your bag?" Tomoki asked.

Izumi just winked.

He stared and stared...and started blushing hard.

Shinya just looked thoughtful.

Kouji snorted. "It's not what you're thinking." A pause. "I've never had to say that to you before, Himi. Is this your first time in the gutter?"

"Ooohh! Out of the closet, into the gutter!" Izumi looked far too happy. "I'm so proud of you, my little vice captain!"

"Izumi..."

"Oh, come on!" the girl smacked him. "Let me have some fun."

"I think you've had enough fun today," Kouji said dryly.

"So," Tomoki cut in, before they started fighting again, "where did it come from? The whipped cream, I mean."

"I know the guy behind the counter," Izumi explained, cheerfully. "I once joked that if he gave me a can of whipped cream, I'd get him a new regular. Now I do it all the time - and whaddaya know, business is booming."

Shinya snorted. "Of course it is."

"Ice cream's melting," Kouji said, licking his spoon. "Let's find a cooler place to talk."

"Clubhouse?"

"Too hot," Kouichi said as he joined them, which could have been an answer, or just a general observation.

"Library?"

"We'd get kicked out," Tomoki said, with a pointed look at Kouji and Izumi.

"Classroom? I could break into one," Kouji offered.

There was an immediate chorus of, "No, Kouji."

"We really...don't have anywhere to hang out, do we?" Izumi puckered her lips into a sad pout.

"That's gay," Takuya muttered.

"Damn straight," Shinya said. Then he stared at his brother gravely until he couldn't hold the serious face anymore - they both cracked up and toasted each other with their cups of ice cream.

Tomoki shook his head despairingly. "You know, I'm pretty sure that you guys are going to make fun of me no matter what, so let me just ask this now: who's actually _straight_, here?"

"I am," Izumi said prettily.

Takuya had a large spoonful of ice cream in his mouth so he just muffled something and pointed to himself.

No one else answered. Well, damn.

"Mokuzai?" he prodded gently.

"Nope." Pause. "Asexual."

"You know, this is statistically improbable," Kouichi commented. "Having representatives of all the major orientations in a single kendo team, I mean."

"Asexuality isn't an orientation," Izumi pointed out.

"You know what I mean," the elder twin retorted, rolling his eyes.

Tomoki was still processing Kouichi's casual remark. "_All_ of the major orientations? Rin's lesbian?"

The others all glanced at each other.

"Somebody say it."

"Not me."

"Not me, either."

Tomoki glared. "Say what?"

"Let's all say it together," Izumi decided. "Distribution of blame."

"Okay," Takuya said. "Sure."

Kouichi bobbed his head.

"_You didn't know that, Tomoki?_" the three chorused, before Tomoki could get in another word.

"Actually," Mokuzai said dryly, "I have to back Himi up. I didn't know that either."

Izumi looked baffled. "But it's so obvious."

"Is there some kind of gaydar that's exclusive to kendo captains?" Tomoki wondered out loud. At the replying laughter from the rest of the group, he glared, "I'm being serious here!"

Izumi patted his head. "You'll find out next year, won't you?"

He blanched and fidgeted nervously. "Oh...yeah."

"Relax, Himi," his current captain said cheerfully, "You can always pretend that you knew all along."

"Right," he mumbled. Then he looked up at Kouichi curiously.

"No," Kouichi answered the unspoken question, smiling encouragingly. "I'm basically straight."

"Basically?"

"What's the term they use - bicurious?"

Tomoki groaned.

"Just kidding," Kouichi said, laughing. "I'm bi, like my brother."

Kouji snorted. "Any other pressing questions before we hurry up and eat our ice cream? It's starting to look like soup."

Tomoki looked thoughtful. "How much of this did you plan?"

"Plan?" Shinya looked startled.

"Not you," Tomoki said. "Everyone else."

"None of it," Kouji replied.

"It came together nicely all by itself," Izumi explained. "Surpised?"

"A little." He felt...warm. Not hot like blushing, just warm.

"Awww. I promise that we would never do that," she said, ruffling his hair. "If you can't get together by yourselves, that doesn't really bode well for the rest of your relationship, does it?"

"To be fair, Izumi," Kouji murmured, "_we_ probably could have used the help."

"Entirely your fault, I say," she replied cheekily, leaning against him.

"False. If we had some help - like from a dictionary - maybe it wouldn't have taken us so long to figure out what a compromise was."

"What's a compromise?" she grinned.

"Letting me win an argument every once in a while," he replied dryly.

"Sure thing, as soon as you let me win an official kendo match."

Shinya snickered and leaned in towards Tomoki. "Hey, you heard them. We should learn to compromise. I want a bite of your ice cream. What do you want?"

Tomoki stared at him slowly - this was _real_, wasn't it? - before breaking into a small grin. "I want you to never, ever, ever wear plaid."

"What's wrong with plaid?" Mokuzai asked.

"Oh...nothing." He took another bite of the ice cream, before turning around to face Shinya. "Or, if you can't accept that, you could just shut up and kiss me."

There may or may not have been a kiss between them, right in front of their friends and family - some of whom were grinning fondly and some of whom were laughing their asses off, but there certainly _was_ this conversation after the moment passed:

"...Did you give Tomoki the alcoholic chocolate semifreddo?"

"It was alcoholic?"

* * *

And thus ends this arc! Time to move on - or move backwards, as it were.


	14. Findings

Well, I've been sitting on this update for a while, and finally I think it's ready to be released to the wild.

Warning: It may walk the line between T and M towards the end, but it's really not explicit. And I do have the complete version, if...anyone is interested.

* * *

FINDINGS

Weeks after the tryouts for the kendo team closed, the sports committee told her they were dismissing her complaint because they couldn't possibly trace where the salt in her water bottle had come from. "Anybody could have done it," they said, patiently, and when she protested that it wasn't _just anyone_, that it was clearly someone in particular - and probably _one of her fucking opponents_ - they patted her on the shoulder with patronizingly soothing smiles on their faces. Then the coach reassured her that she had done just fine at the tryouts despite the whole fiasco. As if that was supposed to make her feel better.

In reality, she had never felt more insulted in her life. Three losses, two wins - how was that supposed to be JUST FINE? She had been underestimated before, but never this much. She could tell that they hadn't expected any better from her. It was obvious from the way they had been so slow to believe her about the saltwater in her water bottle. They just couldn't imagine anybody thinking that this slender blonde girl was actually a threat. Who would sabotage a harmless little thing like her?

The worst part was knowing that she would have beaten all of her opponents easily if it weren't for the horrible, stinging burn in her throat and the stubborn dizziness that set in after she went through multiple matches with nothing to drink.

She had clenched her fists and smiled tightly at the whole committee of well-meaning gentlemen before turning her heel and walking off.

There was almost nothing that Izumi hated more than a cheater. Almost.

But one of the very, very few things she hated more than a cheater was a passive bystander.

God, she needed a drink or something. Luckily for her, Matsuda owed her a bunch of favors. He never had any good alcohol, but at least he had a _lot_ of the bad stuff. Quantity over quality. If she was pushy enough he'd probably let her have something a little less bad than usual.

She dropped by his room - it was already open and full of people, go figure - and leaned against the doorframe. "Matsu?" The crowd went right on talking, and she huffed indignantly. "MATSU?"

"You're not going to find him," came a familiar voice to her left.

She nearly jumped a foot in the air when she recognized that face and those shoulders and those _eyes_ - dammit, she was catching glimpses of him everywhere now. She vaguely remembered seeing him on tryout day, even, although that might have been a hallucination from dehydration. Flushing and hoping that he didn't notice her reaction, she smiled at him. "Er, hi. We meet again?"

"Mm-hmm. Orimoto, right?" he lifted his glass in a toasting motion.

"I'm sorry," she winced slightly, "I don't...actually know your name."

He looked unsurprised. "Minamoto Kouji."

Minamoto Kouji, huh? She wondered briefly if he had any relation to the samurai of the Minamoto clan. It would have been...appropriate. "Nice to meet you properly, Minamoto."

"Likewise," he said politely. "Also, Matsuda left with some girl a while ago."

She scowled. "Oh. Seriously?" Well, Matsuda probably wouldn't even care if she snooped around and snagged some of his beer.

He looked at her face carefully, as if he was searching for something on her face. "...what did you want him for?"

"Something to drink," she said blankly. "What else does anybody want Matsuda for?"

He looked oddly pleased at her response, though she wasn't sure how he managed that without smiling or moving his eyebrows or anything. "Want this?" he offered the cup he was holding.

She stared at him, wondering how she was supposed to explain that she had a policy against accepting drinks from strangers. Well, he wasn't exactly a stranger, but...still.

"Nobody has touched it," he added, with a small quirk of his lips. "They handed this to me but I don't drink."

"Oh." She shrugged. "Uh, I'll get my own, thanks though."

"Mmm. Heard you made it to the team."

She blinked. Team? Oh. Oh! "So I DID see you at tryouts!" she cried, pointing at him.

He stared. "...yes, you did," he said.

"I'm sorry, I'm just...I thought I saw you but I didn't know it was you, so I..." she rubbed her neck. "It would have been really awkward if I was wrong, so I thought better safe than sorry."

He choked out a soft laugh and she thought, _Oh my god, he's so cute when he's laughing_. And then, immediately after that, _Oh my fucking god, I just met the guy a few weeks ago. I am so screwed._

"Don't laugh at me," she said, hoping that her thoughts weren't obvious on her face. "I don't like people laughing at me."

"You've laughed at _me_," he pointed out. "I forgot why. But you HAVE laughed at me. So it's only fair that I get to laugh at you too."

No, it was not fair, not fair at ALL, not with that face. She glared at him.

He smirked at her. "Well, anyways. I'm not surprised you made the team."

She blinked and felt more flattered than she really ought to feel. "Really?"

"I saw your first match," he shrugged. "You destroyed your opponent. It was very nicely done."

Oh, of course. She had been doing well until she took that first gulp of the tampered water. She sighed. "Yeah. I ended up with three losses, though."

He blinked. "...you did?"

He sounded genuinely surprised and it made her feel really good. At least somebody else realized that she shouldn't have lost any of her matches. Not against _those_ opponents. "Somebody put salt in my water. A LOT of salt."

His eyes narrowed. "Seriously?" His tone was sharp and disgusted.

"Mmm." She shrugged tiredly.

"...and you didn't ask for another water bottle from the staff?"

"I did. That one was salted too. After that, I ran to the bathroom between matches for tap water." She sighed. "It didn't even help. I kind of choked when I spat out the saltwater. My lungs were _burning_ the rest of the afternoon."

"...ah," he murmured, glancing off into the distance. His forehead was creased.

She stared at him. "...you're not surprised."

He shook his head slightly. "No, unfortunately, I'm not. The shinai broke in two of my matches. I suspected tampering, but...it's hard to prove. I already have a history of breaking them."

"Right," she gave him a hopeless little grin. "That's what the sports committee said to me, too. That it was too hard to prove."

He scoffed slightly. "Yeah, they're basically useless."

"I just got back from meeting with them, that's why I needed that damn drink." She blinked. "Oh, right. That's what I came for. A drink."

He gave her a deadpan look. "Right."

She flushed. "Shut up. You were distracting me."

He gestured to the crowd. "Go ahead and brave it if you want."

"...'brave' it? It's not a wild animal."

"Hmm. Bet that you'll be knocked down at least...seven times."

She glared at him. "...you're making fun of me for being short, aren't you?"

"Oh, you're not short," he said simply, smirking. "Just small."

She huffed. "Okay, fine. You go get me a drink, then. And none of that mixed drink nonsense."

"Yes ma'am," He said mockingly, slipping into the crowd with an easy, enviable grace. Yeah, she was definitely looking at him too much. This probably wasn't a good idea. She was already short on self-restraint after her horrible meeting with the sports committee...and she knew that she tended to make very, very bad decisions when alcohol was involved.

But...he was already back with a can of beer. It really would have been rude not to drink any of it after he had already gotten some for her. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"Mmm." He swirled around the contents of his cup absently, but didn't even sip from it.

She eyed him curiously as she popped the can open. "...so you really don't drink?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't. Never got into the habit of it." It was an incredibly general, unthinking answer.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh. Okay." They stood in silence as she took a few long gulps. Then she licked her lips and peered at him curiously. He was watching her intently, and she shivered slightly. "...why are you in Matsuda's room if you don't drink?" she asked finally.

"Kanbura dragged me."

"Who's...? Wait. Mr. Starchy-Orange-with-Yellow-and-Red?"

He nodded and they shared a knowing, wry look. He told her, "I'm supposed to keep him from doing anything stupid tonight."

"Wow. Good luck?"

He smirked slightly. "I'll need it."

"Heh." Izumi sipped from her beer absently. "Hmmm, why weren't you keeping him from being stupid last time?"

"Last time? When we met, you mean?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I...we weren't on good terms at the time."

She raised an eyebrow.

"...what?"

"DETAILS," she said, grinning.

"It's nothing you'd want to hear," he muttered, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Oohh? That's for _me_ to decide. Lay it on me, what happened?"

He glared at her.

Her wide grin didn't even falter. "We-eeell?"

"...okay, first," he looked warily at her, "I'm going to say that it all happened without my consent, okay?"

Her eyebrow went high. "...okay. I am burning with curiosity. What happened?"

"So, Kanbura's brother is kind of gay..."

"Kind of?"

"Okay. He's gay. Very gay. And he has a crush on yours truly."

"Oh my god." She cracked up, gasping for breath in between bouts of laughter. "Oh my GOD, that's - hilarious. And kind of cute. But mostly hilarious."

"It is _not_ funny," he looked a little distressed. "He _French-kissed_ me. And Kanbura was walking into the room and saw the whole damn thing."

She collapsed against the wall, laughing too hard to support herself.

He scowled.

"Well," she giggled, "was it a good kiss at least?"

He looked horrified. "Okay, first of all, the kid's too young for me. And secondly, I was way too worried about Kanbura's reaction to pay attention. And thirdly...no. Just no."

She blinked. "He's...too young for you? That's your only hang-up? Wait, Minamoto, are you gay?" She didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed by the prospect.

He winced. "...not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean? How can you be _not exactly _gay?"

"...I guess the proper word is bisexual? Or pansexual?"

"Really? So you don't care about the gender at all?"

"No, not really."

She tilted her head. "...so how are you supposed to pick your, uh, future partner? Are you just going to - I have no idea how to say this. Are you just going to settle down with one orientation?"

He looked at her blankly. "I don't think it works the way you think it works," he said.

"Oh." She frowned. "Well, either way, I wouldn't have pegged you for a bisexual, Minamoto."

"Honestly, I think flexible is a better word than bisexual," he muttered, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable with the course of the conversation.

"Huh." She tilted her head. "So...what kind of guy _are _you attracted to?" Her grin was sly and cheeky...and genuinely curious.

He stared at her. "Are you seriously asking me this?"

"Yep!"

"You're...odd."

"Well," Izumi shrugged, "better than boring."

His eyes were staring at her again, pupils dilated. "...better than boring," he agreed.

"So?" She bounced on her heels.

"I'm attracted to guys with...with a nice chest, I guess? I like - " he made a lazy motion with his hand, "I like it when they're pretty well-built."

"Okay, what about girls...?"

There was a pause. "Again, a nice chest." He looked embarrassed and coughed slightly. "And hips. That's what I like."

"...Everybody has hips."

Minamoto ducked his head and groaned out loud. "Okay, yes, but I'm talking about...hips-hips. You understand?"

She stared at him blankly, wondering if he was actually saying what she thought he was saying. Maybe she should pinch herself.

He turned around to face the bar again. "...fuck, how do I say this without being crude?"

She actually laughed at that. "Oh, for crying out loud, you're MINAMOTO KOUJI," she said, giggling. "How crude can you be?"

"Very." A long pause.

"Oh, I gotta hear this."

"Don't hit me," he said warily.

"Do your worst, Minamoto."

"No, I'm serious."

"Well, so am I." She leaned forward, grinning.

He made a faint disapproving sound. "You just want to see me squirm, basically."

"Yeah. Basically."

"...you're a _sneaky_ one, Orimoto." His voice was soft and annoyed but in an oddly admiring sort of way.

"Oh, I know," she said flippantly, unable to stop grinning. Was it bad that she wanted to him to keep looking at her like that forever? God damn it, he needed to stop pointing those eyes at her. Maybe she should find a way to superglue a pair of sunglasses onto his face next time.

He rocked his cup of iced-tea-that-wasn't-just-tea. "Tits and ass. I like tits and ass. Okay? Soft and round on the bottom, perky on top. That's my ideal girl." His voice was flat but steady, and his eyes were trained on the rim of his glass.

She twisted her chair right and left, flushing slightly - if only because she had been expecting something much tamer. Almost as an afterthought, she looked at her own body self-consciously. Hips and chest, huh? "...Okay, I take that back. You CAN be pretty crude. But I've heard way, way worse."

"Well, yeah, so have I," he muttered. "Mostly from my own brother."

"You have a brother?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. The thought of another him out there somewhere was sort of weird. She tried to picture a whole family of stone-faced blue-eyed pretty boys (and girls, maybe - but it was hard to imagine a female version of Minamoto Kouji). Unable to help herself, she laughed.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What's so funny?"

"I think," she snickered softly, "that one of you is enough for the world, honestly. We don't need that many closet keys running around."

His forehead furrowed. "What's a closet key?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," she replied cheekily. At his blank look, her grin widened to childish proportions. "You've never heard of the closet?"

He blinked. "I know what a closet is."

"Well I would _hope_ so," she said, without missing a beat. "Since you've probably spent a good portion of your life in one."

"...hasn't everybody? Excluding nudists."

"I meant a closet of the gay variety," she said, with mock patience.

He gaped at her like a fish. "Oh. Oh."

"Hooray, you finally got it! Only took you what, five minutes?"

"First of all...it was only two, max. Second of all...shut up, Orimoto."

She laughed, clutching her sides. The room echoed with her laughter and for the first time she realized that most of the crowd had slipped away, leaving just the two of them. She blinked and was about to comment on it, but then Minamoto started speaking again.

"Why were we even talking about closets?"

"Because I called you a closet key," she replied, smiling.

"Ah. _Ah_."

"Of the gay variety." She added, grinning widely. "Because you're pretty enough to drag people out of the closet."

He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

She blinked. "No sarcastic quip, Minamoto?" She waved her hand in front of his eyes. "Are you okay?"

He waved her off with cursory annoyance. "No, I just realized...that explains a _lot _about my previous relationships."

It was her turn to revert to a one-word response. "Oh." She fiddled with her cup slightly. What now? Was she supposed to make a joke?

He leaned forward...and pinched her cheek. "Aha. Who's the awkward one now?" He was smirking boyishly at her, and it looked incredibly attractive, and she was not thinking about kissing him right now, nope.

Oh.

Well, apparently, while her mind had been concentrating on not kissing him, her body had other plans. She felt ridiculous and foolish, clinging onto his shoulders and standing on the tips of her toes so that she could reach his mouth. He wasn't responding, at all. She pulled back, flushing brightly.

He was staring at her, not even moving a muscle.

God, this was embarrassing. "Sorry," she said weakly.

Silence. Thank goodness they were alone in the room, she didn't know what she would have done if there had been witnesses. She was already panicking enough as it was.

"Orimoto," he said, finally, breaking the silence. He walked over to the door and closed it as he spoke to her over his shoulder. "Are you drunk? Or tipsy? Even the slightest bit?"

"I had one beer," she snapped, glaring at him, "I am _not_ drunk. I am _not_ tipsy. What I _am_ is sorry, but I'm definitely not - we've been talking for at least half an hour, all the alcohol's probably out of my system now - "

"Are you sure?" he pressed, laying a solid hand on her shoulder.

She stared back at him. Dammit, those eyes should be illegal. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely.

"Okay," he murmured. Then, in one smooth movement, he pulled her forward by the waist and kissed her roughly. She whimpered, too stunned to respond at first. Then he cradled her head with his hands and ran his fingers through her long blonde hair, tilting his head ever so slightly to deepen the kiss.

"Mi - " she gasped, breaking away from him for just a moment. The world was spinning and she actually felt a little drunk. "Minamoto, what - on earth are you - ?"

"I," he breathed against the edge of her mouth, "am kissing you. You got a problem with that?"

"Oh, god no," she murmured, letting him guide her to the wall so that she could brace herself on it. They kissed languorously before he moved his hands to her slim hips and lifted her up to hold her against him. She outright moaned.

He kissed the hollow of her throat next, murmuring, "Do you mind if I keep going?"

"No," she whimpered.

"_No_ as in stop, or _no_ as in you don't mind?" His breath came short and harsh against her neck.

"_No_ as in I'm gonna kill you if you stop now," she said, as clearly as she could.

His lips curved into a smirk against her soft skin. "Understood."

"Oh, god," she moaned, as he ran his hand down the length of her body, brushing lightly against her upper thighs. "Has to be a dream. Has to."

He glanced at her then, his dark eyes almost appearing black from her perspective. "You have dreams like this?" his voice was impossibly thick with desire.

She felt lightheaded. "Your fucking eyes," she half-sobbed as he sucked gently on the juncture of her neck and collarbone. "That's why."

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," he told her, straightening up so that he could press their foreheads together.

"Yes," she breathed, trying to knit together a coherent thought. "Yes, I dream about you. It's partially your eyes...you have amazing eyes... but it's everything else too."

"Are they good dreams?" he murmured, staring at her with half-lidded eyes.

"So good," she whispered, reaching forward to run her thumb over his temple and around those blue, blue eyes.

"Fucking hell, why didn't you tell me," he muttered, sliding his fingers under her shirt and stroking upward to her breasts. "We could have been doing this for the past hour - "

"Because - " she gasped, kissing every inch of bare skin she could reach on his neck, "You were - saying all these things - about hips and - and - "

He sighed. "Look, Orimoto, I know you're not - you really aren't my type, but it's like everything you do turns me on, and I have no freaking clue why - "

"How was I supposed to know that?" she cried, glaring at him. It was largely an ineffective glare, though, considering that she was pressed to him from breast to thigh. She moved her hips forward to meet his and shuddered as she straddled the hard line of his body.

"Because, I don't know, I've been staring at you for the past hour?" he retorted.

"Okay, fine, but you could have made a move - "

"Well, yes, but we met three weeks ago - "

"But you do have dreams," she said, half as a question, half as a statement. "Like mine."

"God, yes. After I saw you at tryouts - holy fuck, your tsuki," he groaned. "You had this really amazing - "

"Are you fucking serious," she half-whimpered as he nibbled on her collarbone, "You're attracted to me because of kendo - "

"Because you look sexy as hell doing it, yeah," he murmured, making quick work of her buttons. The fabric dropped from her shoulders and he pulled back slightly to stare. "You're not even wearing a bra today. God." His voice had a touch of awe in it.

She arched against the wall. Her chest was heaving slightly. It took effort to remember to breathe. There was something incredibly intimate about the way he was looking at her, but she had never felt _less_ self-conscious. In the back of her mind she wondered if this was a bad idea - oh, god, it probably was, wasn't it?

"Orimoto," he said, leaning forward to press his mouth against her collarbone, before moving down.

"I can't believe you," she shuddered. "Oh. _Oh_."

His tone was wry and piercing beneath the huskiness of his desire. "I know, I can't believe me either."

"I'm not going to have sex with you in _Matsuda_'s room," she told him, shuddering. "But we can - we can do everything else."

"Everything?" he was smirking slightly, amused.

"You pick. I don't care," she breathed.

"You are such a goddamned tease," he whispered huskily.

"I'm a tease? ME?" she shuddered and moved her hands to his back, pressing hard with her fingertips, arching whenever his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot. "How am I the tease?"

"Because I'm definitely not one," he replied. "And there's way too much teasing going on right now, and it has to come from somewhere."

She couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "You...you're so ridiculous."

"Mmm. But it's true. You're the worst tease, telling me I can have anything but sex."

"Still better than a dream," she murmured, eyes shut and fingers clenched around his back.

"God, yes. Much better."

"And - and next time, no alcohol."

"Fair enough," he muttered. "Let's...I don't know...get dinner tomorrow or something." His tongue flicked out over her breast gently. "Okay?" he breathed. "Sound good?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, yes yes."

* * *

Here you go, first hookup! I may put the continuation of this scene and additional story stuff as a standalone M fic. Let me know if anyone would actually be interested in reading it XD


	15. Fallout

What's this? Is it an update? Yes, yes it is! Wonders never cease!

I am on summer vacation. That may or may not translate to more frequent updates, but it certainly won't hurt. No promises, only implied promises!

* * *

FALLOUT

* * *

**OP-ED: Abusive, Not Cute**

**By Masaka Keiko**

For those in the know, the KoujixIzumi fansite that went live a few weeks ago is everything a devoted shipper could want. For those who have no idea what or who I'm talking about, it's nothing important - just a badly formatted HTML shrine to the ever-so-lovely relationship between kendo captain Minamoto Kouji and vice captain Orimoto Izumi.

If you've got the time and the patience to go browsing through the website, you'd find dozens of pictures of the "happy couple" and their posse, random stats from competitions, and a forum full of so many starry-eyed romantics that it's no wonder you can't see any constellations in Tokyo.

You'd also find some really, really violent videos of the two of them just going about their daily business...which apparently involves regular beatings from both sides. Even one of the tamest clips has a disturbing scene with Minamoto slamming Orimoto into a locker, head first.

Isn't that just adorable?

I'd like to think that most people would say _absolutely not_. There is nothing cute about a guy beating up his girlfriend for fun - or vice versa - but that's exactly what's happening. This is not just about kendo. I've seen them fight without a wooden sword, without a uniform, without a referee. And boy, do they _fight_. The school has had to renovate the kendo team's locker room multiple times this year, just because the two people in charge get a kick out of beating each other up!

If they were married, people would report them for abuse - but somehow, because they're college students and they've got this maybe-dating-maybe-not dynamic going on, it's perfectly okay for them to be beating on each other. The fanclub puts it pretty succinctly on their homepage: "Their belligerent sexual tension is SO CUTE!" Yes, cute. Domestic violence is so cute.

Even the team treats it as a joke when they come back to find their captain all battered and bruised, and their vice captain even worse off.

Just so we're clear, this is not normal, and this is not okay. When you have regular smackdowns that leave bruises for weeks, that's not love. That's assault. And it's bad enough that Orimoto hits her kendo captain on a regular basis, but it's even worse that Minamoto hits back. No matter what people like to say, a girl is still physically weaker than a guy. This is biological fact. All other things being equal, males can inflict a lot more damage than females can. Add a dash of martial arts training, and what do you get? A literal disaster waiting to happen. They've been lucky so far, but that's all it is, luck.

So why, for the love of God, do people still support them as a couple? Minamoto Kouji and Orimoto Izumi don't need a fanclub, they need professional help.

* * *

"Well," Kouji began cautiously, folding up the school newspaper, "she's probably right about the professional help part."

Izumi tossed the ruined couch cushion back and forth viciously. She had been squeezing and twisting the little pillow so hard that all of the stuffing was in the corners. Huffing, she crossed her arms and cried, "That's not the point!"

He laid the newspaper on the dining table, well out of her range. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that _was _the point."

"No - the point the stupid _article_ was trying to make is that we're in a fucking abusive relationship. I know what an abusive relationship is like! I've _had_ them before! This is _not_ one of them!"

"Izumi."

"It's just so stupid! We fight as often as a normal couple! Just look at Mika and Takuya!"

"Izumi."

"And most of the damage in the clubhouse is because of other people! Like Ikusa!"

"Izumi."

"And what the _hell_ do they mean,_ physically weaker than a guy_?! God!" she huffed loudly.

"Izumi." He knocked her on the head with the back of his hand. "I don't know if you're abusive towards me, but you're definitely abusive towards my furniture." He gestured to the twisted pillow in her hands.

"...Oh." She handed it over, blushing slightly.

He took the cushion and started kneading it to move the fluffy stuffing back into place. Then he offered it back to her.

She shook her head, looking a little embarrassed still. "No, I'm good. I think it's out of my system now."

"Good." He sat down next to her, close enough to feel her head against the side of his thigh. It was comfortable. He was glad that she had convinced him to get a new couch - plenty of room to sit down, even when she was flat on her back like right now.

"You're sitting on my hair," she informed him.

He got up halfway and swept the blond strands away. "You should get it cut. I mean, you complain about taking care of it all the time..."

"Mmmm," she said, smiling for the first time all hour. It was a distracted smile, but better than nothing. "But then it'd be shorter than yours."

"That would be my problem, not yours," he said wryly. "At worst they'd call me a sissy."

"And at worst they'd call me butch," she countered, poking his leg.

"They already do, Izumi," he pointed out. "Just not to your face."

"Comforting." With her feet braced against the armrest, she pushed herself up until she could flop her arms over his lap. Then, with supreme effort, she managed to get her head onto his lap too.

"I try to be," he replied, patting her head absently.

"What do you think is going to happen? They told me to come back to school early..."

"I don't know," he said simply. "But I guess we'll find out soon."

"I hate attention," she said, her voice soft and fluttery like an autumn leaf. "When we do something nice for each other, they call us the cutest little things ever. When we fight, they call us messed up and dysfunctional and abusive."

"I know." He dragged his fingers through the sandy mass of hair. "It frustrates me, too."

She glanced at him sideways. "But you're so calm about it. You're always so calm. It's contagious, I bet."

"Well, if it's contagious, _you_ certainly haven't caught it," he said wryly.

"You'd be surprised," she said, surprisingly earnest.

"So would you. I'm not always calm, you know." He shrugged. "Did you move all your luggage yet? I could help..."

"No," she mumbled drowsily, completely spent from complaining about the article. "Been too busy."

"Too busy doing what, ranting?" he asked dryly.

"Um...yes." She glanced at him. "I meant what I said. You're way too calm about this."

Kouji sighed. "Well, first of all, I think the article's got some valid points."

Her eyebrow went up.

"I'm serious," he told her, amused by the exaggerated disbelief on her face. "We may not fight more often than most people, but when we do, it's no holds barred."

"Nuh-uh."

He blinked. "No?"

"Kouji," she said, calm as anything, "no holds barred means I'd go straight for your crotch. Which I don't do, obviously."

"No, you _wouldn't_," he said, just as calm. "You have a...a...how the hell do I put this?"

"Well, what are you trying to say?"

"If I could answer that question I would've just said it," he pointed out.

"Is it about sex? It is, isn't it? Awww, don't even worry 'bout it," she cooed, grinning. "You're still no good at being crude, even after all these years...it's cute, you know?"

"I was going to say," he interrupted, looking affronted, "that you probably wouldn't have as much fun with a eunuch. Nothing crude at all. Well, not by your standards anyways."

"Poor baby," she said, grinning. "You're right, that wasn't even cringe-worthy. It's all in the delivery, darling."

"Didn't know you were such an expert," he deadpanned.

"Oh, I am. Wanna hear me talk dirty?" She touched his earlobe with the tip of her nose gently.

He stared at the ceiling pensively. "No. I want dinner first."

She snickered, half disappointed, half amused. "If you were anyone else, I'd think that you were a prude."

"Or just clueless, like Himi."

She laughed. "Poor thing. He's so innocent...the college boys are going to eat him alive when they finally realize that he's single."

He gave her a slight nudge. "When they finally realize he's past puberty, you mean."

"Oh, hush. I have a baby face too. It's just less noteworthy because I'm a girl."

"You do not have a baby face," he said, teasingly. "You have an eight-year-old girl face. Except when you're angry. Then you look your age."

She actually frowned at that. "And somehow you're attracted to this eight-year-old face?"

He blinked. "Not...really? I'm more attracted to you when you're angry, to tell the truth."

"Woooow," she rolled her eyes at him. "You're right, I think I understand why people think our relationship is abusive."

He looked a little injured. "I can't help what I'm attracted to!"

"Or what you're _not_ attracted to?" she prodded teasingly.

"Well, that goes without saying..."

"You really don't subscribe to the whole 'unconditional love' thing, do you?" she grinned.

He gave her an odd look. "Attraction and love are two very, very different things," he said finally.

Izumi blinked. "Kouji," she said slowly, "that was a joke. Not an invitation to be serious. A joke."

"Obviously. I'm just pointing out that they're not the same." He frowned at her.

"I _know _that," she said, annoyed. "But it's easier to say unconditional love than unconditional attraction. And what would unconditional attraction be like, anyways? Unconditional attraction - kind of a paradox, isn't it? If you're attracted to blondes then being blonde is a condition. You can't be unconditionally attracted to somebody."

"Izumi," he said, amusement shining in his eyes, "That wasn't an invitation to be serious."

Miffed to hear her own words thrown back at her, Izumi crossed her arms. "Yes, it was. You started it."

"Real mature, Izumi."

Annoyed, she blew her sidebangs away from her face and then did the same to his.

"Yeah," he said, smirking, "_Real_ mature, Izumi."

She had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Maybe he had a point. With a sigh, she uncrossed her arms and swung them around his neck again. Once upon a time, she would have tried to hit him for such smart-assery, but she was an older, wiser Izumi now...one perfectly capable of pushing his buttons without pushing _him_. She eyed him slyly. "One day," she whispered, "when we get all wrinkly and old, I'm gonna remember this conversation, and I'm gonna make you pay for it."

"I'm paralyzed with terror, I really am," Kouji deadpanned.

"You should be," she said, with an indulgent grin. "I'll tell your grandkids to dunk your swords in the river."

He tensed up. "...Why the swords?" he asked. "You can tell them to dunk _me_ if you want, but please leave the swords alone. They rust when they get wet, you know."

"Your priorities are fucked up, darling," she informed him, laughing.

"And why my grandkids? Why wait so long to get your revenge?" He looked puzzled and sulky at the same time and it was cute, it really was.

"Because by then you'd be too old to jump in the river and swim after them," she said cheekily.

"Try me."

She laughed. "Or maybe you can stop calling me an eight-year-old girl, and this hypothetical revenge wouldn't even happen."

"I never called you an eight-year-old girl. I said that you have the face of one."

She rolled her eyes. "Not my fault that I have chubby cheeks."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "...Nah. Compared to Himi, you've got the sharpest cheekbones in the world."

She scowled a little. "That's like winning a thumb war against a cat."

"I wouldn't try," he told her. "Cats can claw the shit out of your palm, thumb or no thumb."

"Well, duh, _I_ wouldn't try either. Cats hate me."

"That's because they sense that you hate _them_." A pause. "I kinda want to get a cat now."

She groaned. "Do I get to veto that? I think I should. I practically live with you as it is. I should have the right to reject random critters coming into the house."

Kouji looked at her with a strange expression on his face.

"What?" she frowned. "I should. It's called being a decent roommate."

"Right," he said, with the odd look still fixed on his face. "Right."

Izumi narrowed her eyes. "What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing. I just realized this is a weird conversation. I've never even thought about having grandkids until now."

Oh. Oh! She could feel a blush spreading all the way to her ears, and she was most assuredly not making eye contact anymore. "I - me neither," she mumbled, fidgeting with his collar.

"Do..." he cleared his throat. "Do you actually want children?"

"Do you?" she asked, still not looking at his face.

"I don't know." He winced. "I don't think so. Babies make me nauseous."

"I can't see you as a father," she admitted, smiling a little.

"Me neither. I can kind of see you as a mother, though."

"I've never thought about it, but..." she had to smile, "I'd be a badass mom."

"Probably."

"Yeah." She bit her lip.

"Izumi," he started to say, before pausing. "Never mind. That's...I think that this is a bad time to ask." He glanced meaningfully at the nearly-forgotten school newspaper on the coffee table.

Izumi was actually grateful for that stupid article now. She had never thought that she would be, but she was. It was a good excuse not to talk about the ever-looming future. "Kouji," she said, quietly, pressing her face against his neck until he obligingly wrapped his arms around her. Then she burrowed her head into the space between his cheek and his shoulder. It was comfortable, and comforting. She wanted nothing more than to take a nap right then and there -

"Izumi," he murmured right against her ear. "Speaking of Himi, do you think he's the one who filmed the videos?"

She groaned quietly. "Videos?"

"The ones on our, uh, fansite."

"Oh, so _now_ you wanna talk about it. Your timing sucks, you know that?" Izumi sat up, suddenly noticing the way her limbs were sprawled over him. It looked really damn uncomfortable. Feeling a little guilty for taking over his lap, she started to shuffle backwards until she slid off his legs and onto the empty side of the couch. "...maybe," she murmured softly. "Or Mokuzai."

"Dammit. It's hard to get mad at either of them."

"No," she mumbled, "it's easy to get mad at Mokuzai - but he's so weird that you forget what you were mad about."

"Okay," he replied slowly, "but the point still stands for Himi."

"He's a puppy. A big puppy-eyed puppy. How can you get mad at him?"

He smirked. "I don't think he would appreciate that analogy, you know...Also, speaking of the videos, when exactly did I shove your head into the locker? I don't remember that at all."

Izumi giggled quietly. "You didn't check out the link?"

"No. Hate watching myself on video."

"Why am I not surprised? Well, anyways, it was when I turned twenty," she prodded. "I told you to kiss me and you said no, and I said that I was the birthday girl so you _had_ to. So then you said_ fine, as long as it's not in public_, and you shoved me into a locker, and we made out."

A faint red flush began to travel up his neck. "...Oh."

"Does that jog your memory?" she asked slyly, grinning.

"Yes. Yes, it does."

She laughed out loud, her breath coming fast and hard against his neck.

"And in my defense," he said sharply, "the locker door was in the way, so it really wasn't in public."

"Oh, come off it. They could have walked fifteen steps forward and gotten an eyeful. It was totally in public."

He somehow managed to combine a shudder and a shrug without looking like a rusty, shaky robot. "Glad they didn't, then."

"You were death-glaring at them," she said, a sly grin tugging on her lips. "I didn't realize it until I saw the video. You were basically telling them to fuck off. It was really convincing."

"Good, that was the intention." He pressed his mouth against her neck, tracing the curve down to her shoulder.

She smiled at him, but still felt the need to point out, "The video makes it look kinda bad, though. Like you really wanted to hurt me."

"...I didn't," he said, simply.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, yes, I know, but - "

"I've never wanted to," he said, carefully. "I mean, I get mad at you, but I've never wanted to actually hurt you. You're just...there, and you push, and I push back, and somehow we end up fighting but it never feels like fighting. I always feel like shit when I fight with other people. It's not like that with you. I don't know how to explain it."

She stared at him and tried to force herself to breathe, but her lungs just would not obey. It was the way he was looking at her, all darkness and intensity and honesty. "Kouji."

He shrugged. "I don't even know what I'm saying. It's stupid." He looked embarrassed.

"Not stupid," she said, quietly. "I can't explain it, either. It's not even the adrenaline kick. I just like the way you make me feel. Even when you make me feel angry. If I wanted to hurt you - if you wanted to hurt me - then it'd be so easy to know where we stand. But it's not. It's not easy at all."

"Really? I think you _do_ know where we stand." He almost smiled.

"I...yes, but...oh, fine," she murmured. She laid her head against the couch. "You know what? Fighting with you is just like sex."

"How on _Earth_ did you make that leap?" he asked, twitching slightly.

"It's not that much of a stretch!" She was blushing fiercely. "I mean, you're the one who gets turned on when we fight!"

"...I do not."

"You just said so."

"I did not, in fact, say that."

"I was paraphrasing," she dismissed.

"Fighting does NOT turn me on. I think I would know better than you."

"You don't," she said unhesitatingly.

"Ouch." He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not trying to insult you," she said, with a lip-biting smile. "I'm just pointing out that eighty percent of the time, when we have sex, it's right after or during a fight."

"So what? That's because we _fight_ eighty percent of the time."

She narrowed her eyes. "What? No. We're better than that."

"Since when?"

"Since - since forever! I mean, we don't talk for at least eight hours a night when we go to sleep, so...mathematically, we can't possibly be fighting eighty percent of the time."

"Ah, but you also sleepfight, you know."

"What?" she scowled. "I do not! I don't even sleepwalk!"

"How would you know? You'd be asleep." His eyes had a challenging glint to them.

"Okay." She stared back, just as challenging. "Do you really want to argue about this, Kouji? Fine. Let's argue. You say that we fight eighty percent of the time. If that was true, we would have to fight for a little over nineteen hours every day. Sleepwalking only happens during slow-wave sleep. In a given night, you only spend _maybe_ twenty percent of your time in slow-wave sleep, so _at most_, assuming an eight-hour sleeping schedule - "

"But who the hell has an eight-hour sleeping schedule in college?" he interrupted cautiously, clearly caught off guard by her outburst.

Izumi couldn't help but feel pleased by the surprise on his face. She had spent most of her college career switching from major to major with ever-increasing desperation, but sometimes it was damn useful to be a jack-of-all-trades. She plowed on rather ruthlessly, "Fine, seven hours. Twenty percent of that is 1.5 - that leaves us with 1.5 hours to sleepwalk, at the _very most_ - "

"1.4 hours, actually," he murmured, still transfixed.

"Dammit, arithmetic - 1.4 hours, out of seven hours' worth of sleep. So we would have to be perfectly sound asleep and NOT FIGHTING ANYBODY for over five hours. And five hours happens to be more than twenty percent of the day. Which means that we can't possibly fight eighty percent of the time, because that would put us over 24 hours." Izumi ran out of breath and panted a little. She was probably red in the face, too. "So _there_."

The look he was shooting her way was an odd one, a mix of admiration, confusion, and full-blown desire. She shivered. He really did have amazing eyes.

"Izumi," he breathed, hoarsely.

Amazing eyes, and his voice was a really close second... "Yes," she whispered.

"You were right. That was really..." He was actually shuddering. "Have I ever told you that I really like it when you go on a smart-ass rampage?"

"Yes." She was blushing again, she could feel it. "Yes. You have. Multiple times."

"...Fuck, you drive me _insane._" his fingers brushed her cheek. "Do you have anywhere to be in the next four hours?"

She shook her head emphatically.

"Good," he said, grabbing her hips and dragging her into his lap.

She kissed him, a lazy open-mouthed nibble right against the jugular - which was usually enough to make him swallow hard and drag her to the nearest comfortable horizontal surface. Today was no different, except for the fact that they were already _on_ the nearest comfortable surface. She was flat on her back with his hands all over her belly in two seconds flat, whimpering with pleasure.

God, she was so glad that she had gotten him to buy a new couch. If they kept this up, though, he was going to need another one.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed - and now you know why they needed to go to counseling in the first place!

Lila, I see your request and I have to warn you - that particular chapter may not be what you were expecting. It's coming up next, though!


End file.
